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1 



“HAR LAMPKINS” 

A NARRATIVE OF MOUNTAIN LIFE, ON THE 
BORDERS OF THE TWO VIRGINIAS 


ABEL PATTON 




THE 

Hbbey press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

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A A 


PREFACE. 




This narrative is intended to give a true in- 
sight into some of the characters in Southwest 
Virginia, as they were before the railroad 
touched those blue-grass hills, or their beautiful 
streams were ever dynamited for its trout. 

The inhabitants were simple, industrious, 
honorable, swore vengeance against their ene- 
mies and died if the occasion demanded for 
their friends. Things have changed since then, 
but some of these good people live yet in their 
quiet way, and are happy and contented as 
such people always are. 

The characters set forth in this narrative and 
the principal features of this story are true, and 
I have tried to do justice to them, striving not 
to censure too strongly my enemies, nor praise 
too lavishly my warmest friends. The majority 
of the characters are living and the bank of 
Petersville is still doing business on the same 
site, but in a fine building and Mr. Haines still 
occupies the position of President to this sound 
financial institution. 


5 


6 


Preface. 


My diary has been of no little assistance to 
me in chronicling the events happening some 
fifteen years since, and I am greatly indebted 
to Henry Johnson for his assistance. 

I send the little volume forth neither begging 
to its severest critics, nor catering to its friends, 
for why should I apologize for relating a true 
account of facts. 


WEI.CH, West Virginia, 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Home Leaving 9 

II. Captain Johnson 13 

III. Uncle Eli Jones 21 

IV. School opens 29 

V. An Evening on the Cliffs 37 

VI. An Encounter with George Perkins 41 

VII. A Night at Captain Johnson’s 52 

VIII. The Attack 58 

IX. The Dance at Captain Johnson’s 68 

X. “ Here’s to you, Phil ” 76 

XI. George Painter’s Defeat 79 

XII. A Visit to the Perkins’ Homestead 88 

XHI. The Will 95 

XIV. A Difficulty with Painter 103 

XV. Dixie and Yankee Doodle 114 

XVI. The Circuit Rider 125 

XVII. At Uncle Eli’s. .... 139 

XVIII. An Interview with Henry in the Jail 155 

XIX. At Home 163 

XX. President of the Bank of Petersville 170 

XXI. The Confession 183 

XXII. Conclusion ~... 191 



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4 






“HAR LAMPKINS.” 


CHAPTER I. 

HOME LEAVING. 

“ Father/' said I one beautiful May morn- 
ing, as I laid down an old copy of Ray’s Practi- 
cal Arithmetic, and blew out a saucer of grease 
that my mother had fixed for me to study by, 
for it was not yet day, “ I am going to hunt 
for the black sow, but I want to know if I can 
have one of her pigs if I can find her ? ” 

“ Now, Harry, what in the world do you want 
with a pig, and one of ’em black sow’s pigs, I 
don’t know. You air the queerest boy that I 
know of. Thar ! thar ! Let’s not argy, you 
can have one.” 

“ I will tell you what I want to do with it ; 
I am going to grow it into a hog, and sell it 
and go to school on the money.” 

I called my dog and started ; as I was going 

9 


10 


“Har Lampkins.*’ 


towards the woods I heard my father say: 
“ That is the quarest boy that I ever saw ; he 
don’t do nothing but talk about books, and 
he will never be worth shucks until that is out 
of him.” 

“Now, pap, don't scold the child ; he loves 
his books and some day we will be proud of 
him.” 

“ Proud of him,” said my father, “ stuffing 
his hide full of book-larning ; won’t be as much 
'count as old Tray, and he's too dratted lazy to 
holler when he is hurt ; thar, let’s not argy, but 
I do believe that confounded name that you 
'sisted on calling him had some ter do with it. 
I never saw a Harry that was worth a cuss.” 

My mother knew that it was useless to argue 
with him and said nothing more in my defense, 
and then and there I made the resolve that 
mother should not be disappointed in me. 

She was the only one I had ever heard de- 
fend me or speak a word in my behalf. My 
father believed that it was wrong for a poor 
boy to strive for an education, and the one who 
did was a hopeless young man. I studied late 
at night by a pine knot, and when I was twenty 
years old, with the assistance of the country 
school teacher, I was able to master Ray’s 
Practical Arithmetic. My big brothers taunted 


Home Leaving. ii 

me with the remark, “ Fixing yourself up for 
office, are you ? '' and the like expressions ; I 
paid no attention to these remarks, as I had been 
teased by every one, since I was a boy, and I had 
at least learned not to pay any attention to 
them, but I felt the remarks keenly, being of an 
extremely sensitive nature. In fact I found no 
congenial companions but my books and my 
mother ; I could scarcely tell which I loved 
better, but there came a time when I knew that 
I loved my mother better than anything on 
earth. Leaving home teaches every boy this 
truth. 

Early one cold, frosty, December morning 
while I stood down at the pen looking at my 
pet hog, a stranger rode up and asked me if I 
knew of any hogs for sale. “ I have one,” said I, 
and I sold him the black sow’s pig for fourteen 
dollars. I had scarcely pocketed the money 
when my brother Sam came down the lane 
j whistling “ Betty Brown,” with an old mountain 
rifle on his shoulder ; father was just behind him 
with along, keen, butcher knife ; father and Sam 
spoke to the stranger and said : We are going 
to kill a shoat for dinner ; get right down and 
see the fun.” Although I had raised the hog 
from a pig, and it was mine, I saw that they 
intended to kill it ; “ Father,” said I, “ I have 


12 


“ Har Lampkins. 


sold that hog to Mr. Painter here, and he has 
paid me for it, and you must not kill it.’' 
“ Thunderation, Sam,” father exclaimed, “ if 
that boy hain’t gone plumb, clean crazy ; fust 
thing we know he’ll sell us out of house and 
home ; now, Harry,” he continued, “ give that 
cash right back ter the stranger ; I’m boss yet, 
I guess. Larn ye ter ask about things on this 
here place, mought er let yer sold it, but nary 
a tater now ; I’ve got to have that pig’s blood 
to ’pease my wrath. No, stranger, I am boss 
here ; couldn’t buy that hog for a soap gourd 
full of gold.” 

I had never quarreled with my father and I 
did not this time, but I returned the money as 
he told me and went to the house. I told 
mother what had happened and that I was go- 
ing to earn my own living; she did not object 
to my going away from home, but I could see 
that her heart was full. She placed a silver 
dollar in my hands and kissed me, and as she 
did so, the hot tears fell upon my face and ran 
down my cheeks. I kissed her and started down 
the road towards the woods where the birds 
were twittering and the squirrels scampered 
across my path, and where the birch lapped its 
hanging branches in the brook that was laugh- 
ing and rushing by. 


CHAPTER II. 

CAPTAIN JOHNSON. 

I HAD heard that away down in the moun- 
tains of Virginia, they were in need of school 
teachers, so across the Clinch and Paint Lick 
Mountains and many little hills and valleys my 
weary steps led me on towards my destination. 
On the sixth night, as the sun was shooting 
his long, silvery needles across the valleys, foot- 
sore, tired and worn, I came up to where an old 
gentleman, with clean shaven face and brilliant 
black eyes was watching some negroes gather- 
ing pumpkins and placing them in a wagon 
close by. 

I asked if I could find a place to sleep that 
night in the near vicinity. 

** What is your name? ” he asked. “ Harry 
Lampkins,” I answered. 

“ Harry Lampkins,*' he muttered, and sat as 
if thinking for some little time, “ yes, sir, Harry, 
you just climb up here on the fence and rest a 
bit; we will go down to the house pretty soon, 
andyou can’t find a better place in this neigh- 

— 13 


14 “ Har Lampkins.’^ 

borhood than my house. No, sir,” he con- 
tinued, “Captain Johnson was never known to 
turn a stranger away hungry or tired.” 

It was not long until we went down to the 
house, which was a large brick building, fur- 
nished elegantly, considering the distance from 
any city. We had been in the room but a little 
while when I heard the voice of a girl singing 
some simple ballad in a low sweet tone. The 
voice was strangely sweet and mellow and it 
thrilled my soul and aroused my curiosity to 
see the sweet singer herself, but I dreaded to 
meet her as I was very timid in the presence 
of ladies, or at least I had always been when I 
was at home. I can remember that my brother 
Sam was a favorite among the country lasses, 
and that I could not get one of them so much 
as to look at me, when he was around. They all 
called me stupid and awkward and I believe 
that they were right, for everything that I said 
sounded stupid and out of place. If I attempted 
to say anything witty I was laughed at and not 
the remark. Others could say things that I 
could see nothing in, and everybody laughed, 
so I came to consider myself the biggest fool 
that had ever been permitted to run loose about 
the country ; in fact I had thought seriously 
of asking the authorities to have me arrested 


Captain Johnson. 15 

and tried on the charge of lunacy, and sent to 
the insane asylum, where I could be treated 
and return and enter the society and feel at 
ease with those whom I had known since my 
earliest childhood. I was thinking of these 
things when Captain Johnson said to me: 
“Young man, you say that your name is Harry 
Lampkins, and that you were raised in this 
state ? I told him that he was right and ex- 
pected him to continue but he remained in his 
meditative mood, and sat thus until supper was 
announced. We arose and went out to supper. 
The old gentleman told his wife and daughter 
who I was, and I found them both to be very 
agreeable. I also found that I could talk with 
greater ease than I had ever before experienced 
in the presence of ladies. However, I said very 
little, fearing that I might make a blunder, 
knowing that it was my fashion to say the 
wrong thing at the wrong time. I enjoyed my 
supper very much and ate heartily, as it took 
something of a good square meal to satisfy an 
appetite that run a machine six feet two 
inches in height, all of its members being pro- 
portionably large, my feet not excepted. 

We were sitting around the fire talking 
pleasantly of the events common to every 
neighborhood when we heard some one rap on 


i6 


“ Har Lampkins. 


the door. ** Come in,” said the Captain and a 
great burly fellow, rough as pig-iron, presented 
himself. 

“ Good evening, George,” said the Captain. 
** Have a seat.” 

“Not much time ter stay,” replied George. 
“ I allow we are going to have some smart of a 
snow purty soon ; least Eli Jones says so, and 
pap allows he was never known ter fail prophe- 
sying, and he has known him nigh on to thirty 
years.” 

“Anything wrong to-night, George,” the 
Captain asked. 

“No, nothing wrong, further than pap says, 
that school ort ter be going, and he allows if 
you will lend him old Tobe he’ll ride over and 
get one over at it purty soon.” 

“ I soon learned that they could not get a 
teacher very easily in that neighborhood and I 
ventured to say that I would like to try my 
hand, and go to work at once with the school 
if they thought I would suit them. To this 
the Captain readily assented, saying that he 
was a trustee and that Eli Jones was another 
one, and that he would go with me over to 
Jones’ and help me to get the school. 

“ Now, look a-here, stranger,” put in George, 
“this school has never been teached out, and if 


Captain Johnson. 17 

yer don’t keep yer eyes skint yer won’t 
neither.” 

I told him that I thought I could manage 
it, or at least I would try. 

“ You’re a purty big fellow, but I’ll tell yer,” 
said George, “ I’m er schoolboy my own self, 
and if you treat us right there’ll be no trouble, 
but if yer don’t, then, to be plain with yer, 
we’ll lick yer as show as gun’s iron.” 

I expect to treat you right,” I replied, “ and 
I expect you to be one of the best boys in 
the school, for I think that we can get along 
together nicely.” 

“Just as you’re mind to,” he continued, “ but 
thar hain’t been no teacher since I was thirteen 
years old, I ain’t larruped, sooner or later, and 
if yer get off yer’ll do well.” 

I saw that this chap would be a rough cus- 
tomer and unless I could gain his good-will I 
would be likely to have trouble with him. 
After he was gone Captain Johnson toki me 
how he had thrashed every teacher in the neigh- 
borhood for the last six years, and that no one 
could control him, “but,” he added, “we will 
go over to Eli Jones' and get the school at any 
rate.” He then asked in a very cautious man- 
ner something concerning my origin; who my 
mother was ana her father’s name, and in- 


1 8 “ Har Lampkins." 

quired about my family in many little ways, 
and he impressed me that he was a very pe- 
culiar man. 

He sat in moody silence for a long time 
after this, while his daughter Lucy, whom I 
had heard singing when I first came, sat quietly 
reading some new books, or at least pretended 
to be, for when my eyes were turned suddenly 
in that direction I thought that I caught a 
glimpse of the deep brown eyes ; in fact some- 
times they were looking at me as though she 
was studying my face ; this may have been 
imagination on my part, but I was strangely 
happy ; for months afterwards those eyes 
haunted me. If I strolled across the field her 
figure, gracefully formed, just tipped the 
hill-top ; if I chanced to look towards the 
clouds her image was floating there and her 
eyes had a look that the stars wore, and ten 
thousands of sweet thoughts rushed through 
my brain and all centered in her eyes. I 
thought of her by day and dreamed of her by 
night, and at last I called myself a fool and a 
superstitious old woman. 

When we had sat and talked for some time, 
the Captain took me to my room ; such luxury 
I had never seen before ; everything was 
lovely and I felt that I was in a paradise, for 


Captain Johnson. 19 

this was the first time in my life that I had 
ever been in a bedroom nicely furnished. I 
slept that night and dreamed of the Elysian 
Fields of happiness and of heaven, and in 
them all I could see a young girl with dark eyes 
and radiant hair. In my dream I was standing 
outside the pearly white gates, watching the 
happiness and joy of others. I was thinking 
of my homespun jeans coat and my brogan 
shoes, and longing to enter there and explore 
those beautiful fields, and laugh and be happy 
like those that I could see. I looked in the 
center of the happiest group of beautiful young 
ladies and handsome young men and I could 
see a girl with long, raven locks, and dark brown 
eyes and teeth of pearly whiteness, and they 
were all making love to her. 

I soon lost sight of the beautiful creature, 
and while straining my eager gaze to locate 
her again, some one touched my elbow and I 
turned around and was face to face with the 
loveliest creature that I had ever seen. I stood 
waiting for her to speak ; I caught a glimpse 
of the starlike eyes, and recognized the Cap- 
tain’s daughter, Lucy Johnson. She said to 
me in the softest voice, “You do not appear 
happy like a young man of your strength- and 
beauty should,” 


20 


“ Har Lampkins." 


I looked myself from head to foot, for this 
was the first time in my life that any one had 
ever called me beautiful or good. She must 
have read my thoughts for she quickly said, 
“ Oh ! your clothes are all right ; the truest 
hearts often beat in the homespun clothes. I 
know,” she went on, that most people think it 
is the gold that glitters that makes the man, 
and that we are often measured by our bank 
account.” 

I had caught her hand and bent down to 
kiss it, when her father and an angry lover, 
the man to whom I had sold my hog, dashed 
up ; her father bore me to the ground and the 
lover bore away my lovely Lucy in his arms. 

Some one rapped on the door and I heard 
the Captain’s voice calling ; my dream was 
over ; the sun was shining ; I was up and 
dressed in a jiffy and enjoying the pure air of 
the mountains on a December morning. 


CHAPTER III. 

UNCLE ELI JONES. 

After breakfast we rode over to Eli Jones' 
and the Captain told him that I wanted the 
school. 

“ Wall," said he, ‘‘ yer can get her, and from 
your looks you strike us about right." 

I told him that I would do the best that I 
could if they gave me the school. 

“You bet your boots, Mr. Lampkins," said 
he, “ them cuss-fired boys down thar beat 
the old Scratch himself ; I am religious, I am, 
but them boys come mighty nigh making me 
cuss ever time I think of ’em. Why, blast my 
hide, if George Perkins didn’t cause me to 
swear ; by the Eternal Devil, he did, at my 
own table, and the Circuit Rider thar, but I 
kivered it up though, the best I could, and 
helped his plate to two more pieces of chicken, 
and I told Samantha after he had gone that he 
looked like he loved me better than he ever 
did before, and now, Lampkins, if yer’ll go down 
thar and thrash the whole gang of ’em — ^ em-^. 


22 


“ Har Lampkins.** 


*em — Devils, I must say it, for nary other word 
in the English language will do ; thrash ’em the 
fust day and let George Perkins be among ’em, 
I’ll gin yer the school fer five years at a raised 
salary. Oh ! stranger,” he continued, “ why 
didn’t yer come along before I jined the Church 
and I could a-used words to describe ’em boys. 
It’d take some awful strong, yes, sir, awful 
strong words, to describe ’em ; but my wife,” 
he went on, *‘will make you think that they 
are not so bad. Samantha can’t hardly bear 
ter hear yer talk mean of the Devil she’s so all- 
fired good.” 

The hands of the old wooden clock pointed 
to a quarter of twelve when Uncle Eli went 
back to a wooden chest and brought out an 
old-fashioned demijohn of whisky, some maple 
sugar, a glass and a cup of water. 

“ Yes, stranger,” said he, pouring out some of 
the whisky, “ I always keep licker about the 
house ; I don’t know how you feel about it, 
but there is one argument in its favor that even 
Samantha and the Circuit Rider can’t down ; 
no, sir, it is the best thing on the top side of 
the earth for a snake bite ; this is not in snake 
time, yer know, and up to winter afore las’ I 
had many a hot argument with Samantha ; she 
said I ort ter keep it in snake time but out of 


Uncle Eli Jones. 


^3 

season it was wrong. Now don’t you know I 
watched all summer, day in and day out ; lost 
a crap, I did, trying to locate a snake den. 
One day I saw several under an old chest- 
nut stump ; I had my gun with me and could 
have killed ’em all, but nary a time did I ; I’d 
a fed ’em snakes to keep ’em alive if it needs 
be. I said nothing about it ’till December 
23d, 189-, thar were about two inches of snow 
on the ground and I went up and dug and dug 
until I could prize out that old stump ; arter 
awhile it tumbled over, and I killed ten good- 
sized rattlers. I took one ter the house and 
placed the rest about one hundred yards down 
the hill ; it was fun ; them snakes was so stiff 
and cold when I’d hit their heads the rattles 
would fly off the end of ther tails ; when I got 
ter ther house I found that I was in luck ; it 
was Quarterly Meeting Saturday, and thar sot 
the Elder and the Circuit Rider and Samantha, 
all talking about a great temperance lecture, 
and the evils of corn licker. I opened fire with 
my rattler; Samantha hollered ; the Elder 
kicked over his cheer and the Circuit Rider 
knocked down that old wooden clock and broke 
it, that been running round forty years. I 
cared nothing for that ; I was gaining a victory. 
“ Now,” says I, Talk about whisky and 


24 


Har Lampkins; 


corn licker, but I want ter say right here, relig- 
ion or no religion, I’ll never be without licker, 
the best that corn can make, in my house 
again, by the Eternal Devil, I won’t. Saman- 
tha asked if I ‘ had just saw one snake,’ and 
I, in an excited manner, said, Moses and 
Aaron, I killed a whole army of ’em. I took 
’em up and showed ’em all the snakes with 
their heads turned towards the house ; this 
settled it ; I had it all my own way. I went 
right back ter ther house and fixed a toddy for 
us all. The Elder, the Circuit Rider and 
Samantha took theirs as a Sacrament, but I 
took mine as a straight drink, because I had 
won the victory. Samantha don’t know about 
that snake story yet. The Elder preached a 
regular rip-snorting sermon the next day on 
* Take a little wine for your stomach’s sake,’ 
and told 'em of my fight with the snakes, and 
made me out a great hero ; said I was right in 
keeping licker in my house for snakebites, and 
don’t you know that he is on that Circuit yet, 
and the popularest preacher since Lem Sanders’ 
time, who carried a bottle of the purest with 
him all the time.” Uncle Eli then lifted the 
tumbler to his lips and drank it down saying, 
“ Here’s ter yer,” and when he was through 
smacking his mouth he said, “ I don’t want you 


Uncle Eli Jones. 


25 

to misunderstand me, I am with the preacher 
and I am with Samantha all the way through, 
and ’fore ye are here along you’ll disciver that I 
am sacramentest takingest man in the whole 
neighborhood. I believe in it ; it is the sweetest 
part of religion, and I tell Samantha that it 
ought ter be done oftener, as I am willing to risk 
my reputation as a prophet that it is carried 
on extensively in the Golden City.” 

By this time dinner was ready and we sat 
down to partake of the hospitalities of Uncle 
Eli, who returned thanks and muttered some- 
thing to the Lord about the people taking the 
sacrament more frequently ; the meal was well 
prepared and consisted of goodly things ever 
known to the mountain home among the blue- 
grass hills; Mrs. Jones, a motherly old lady, 
was so kind that I was almost afraid to stop 
eating, for fear that she would think that I had 
not done justice to the occasion. Dinner was 
about over when a young lady came into the 
room and Mrs. Jones introduced her as her 
daughter. She was a blonde with bright 
golden hair and deep blue eyes ; her figure was 
slender and graceful and she had the appear- 
ance of a girl of about twenty summers. 

The Captain had been sitting in moody 
silence and only spoke when some remar-k was 


26 “ Har Lampkins.^' 

addressed directly to him ; when we had fin- 
ished dinner and were inside the sitting-room 
again, I was introduced to a young man, Cap- 
tain Johnson’s son ; he was tall and of splen- 
did physique ; and had dark brown eyes and 
curly black hair, and I thought him a truly 
handsome man. I liked his appearance and 
determined to cultivate his friendship, for I 
thought that he would make a congenial com- 
panion. He had escorted Miss Minnie Jones 
home, and I soon learned that they had been 
sweethearts almost since early childhood ; this 
pleased Uncle Eli, but young Johnson’s father 
and mother looked upon it only as a little 
pastime for their son. 

A few moments later Mrs. Jones came in and 
told Henry to go out to dinner, as Miss Minnie 
was waiting for him. 

The Captain was more cheerful after dinner, 
and when he left he insisted that I should spend 
part of my time at his home ; I thanked him 
and he rode away at a cantering gallop on his 
fine bay. 

L engaged board with Uncle Eli and that 
evening we rode over the neighborhood and 
announced that there would be school on the 
following Monday. I was left alone with his 
daughter, who, any one could see at a glance, 


Uncle Eli Jones. 57 

had seen more of society than was to be seen 
in that country ; she was well read and a flu- 
ent talker and full of mischief. I could see 
that her life had been a happy one and that so 
far no care had wrinkled her fair brow. She 
told me, some time during our evening talk, 
she and Lucy Johnson had gone to school 
together somewhere over in Tennessee and 
that Henry would complete his course in the 
law the following fall. “ I have one of his 
books,” she added, and sprang up and lightly 
tripping across the room brought over a vol- 
ume of Blackstone and handed it to me. I 
began to scan its pages and became interested 
in it. Miss Jones told me that she had read 
it through and I said to her, “ Will you let me 
read it and instruct me in the difficult places?” 
She laughed and said, Oh, Mr. Lampkins, I 
cannot teach what I do not know, but we will 
read together if you like.” 

I told her that I liked the idea and teasingly 
added that we would get Mr. Johnson to be 
our teacher. 

** You must not say that anymore,” she said 
laughingly, “ or I will think that you are a 
naughty boy.” At this point her mother called 
her for some purpose and I fell to musing. 
Here I had been talking to two pretty young 


28 


“ Har Lampkms.' 


ladies, one wealthy and the other beautiful and 
good, and I felt no embarrassment ; only two 
weeks before that I had helped a country lassie 
on her horse and had made such a bad effort 
that my brother Sam laughed at me and I had 
to give her sweetheart a sound thrashing, who 
would not accept my apology. I tried to ex- 
plain to him. 

“ I’m going to wallop you right here and 
now,” he said. “ I’ve got bile on my stomach 
and I had rather knock you than to eat.” 

I told him that I was of a fighting family, 
but the other boys usually did the fighting; 
when this bluff would not go I tried to beg off, 
and the harder I begged the more determined 
he was to fight. 

If you have so much bile on your stomach,” 
I said to him, “ and nothing but a fight will do 
you, I will fix you so that you can spit some of 
it off.” 

I hit him a right-hander in the stomach, 
which doubled him up against a walnut stump, 
where he spit bile to his heart’s content, and he 
was nursing three broken ribs when I left the 
neighborhood. 


CHAPTER IV. 

SCHOOL OPENS. 

Monday morning came and with it school 
opened, and I found myself in an almost square 
log building with thirty boys and girls ; some 
of them wore bright and happy faces and were 
cleanly dressed in homespun clothing ; others 
were shabbily dressed, sulky, with their hair 
reaching down to their eyes and hanging in 
strings. I opened school with a short lecture 
on the duties of the teacher to his students 
and vice versa and of the good that we could 
do by hard study and assisting each other. I 
told them of the different great men who came 
from mountain homes and log-cabin school- 
houses and held up Abraham Lincoln as chief 
among them. I finished my lecture by saying : 

** We must always come to the schoolhouse 1 
with clean faces and with hair combed and 
brushed.” I then assumed the vexatious duty 
of arranging classes, when someone in the rear 
of the house said to me : “ Ain’t you a-going to 
give us rules to go by?” “Yes,” I replied, 

29 


** Har Lampkins.^' 


30 

; “ there is one rule and the only one that you will 
be expected to live up to." I saw that they 
were all surprised and looked at each other in 
astonishment and gave them time to think, 
and then continued : “ Yes, boys and girls, there 
is one thing that is required of you and just 
one thing that you are not expected to do." 
Our rules will be simply do right, and you are 
expected to keep this rule." 

As the day wore away I noticed a great deal 
of whispering among the boys, and among those 
were George Perkins, who, the reader will re- 
member, I met at the Captain’s the first night 
that I spent in the neighborhood. 

At recess they flocked together and held a 
close conference under the old oak tree back of 
the schoolhouse and then they shook hands 
and broke up as though they had agreed upon 
some plan of action, and I expected it that 
evening but it did not come. The evening 
passed off quietly. I dismissed and walked to- 
wards Uncle Eli’s, feeling quite contented and 
happy. 

I had reached the yard fence, climbed upon 
it and was resting there, when I heard Uncle 
Eli in a hot argument with some one. I heard 
him say, ** Bless my hide if I don’t know that 
man will fight like er wild cat. I can see it in 


31 


School Opens. 

his face. Yes, sir, I will stake a pint of corn 
licker he will thrash George Perkins before the 
week is out, and if he does I will take the 
sacrament three times a day es long es he es 
here.” 

Oh, papa, don^t think that everybody is 
bloodthirsty ; I am sure that Mr. Lampkins ap- 
pears like a nice young man.” 

“ Jest what I say, Minnie ; that’s the reason 
he will fight.” 

“ I don’t know him,” I heard another voice 
say, “ but if he kin fight like my old Colonel he 
kin teach that school.” 

When I went to the house I was introduced 
to a man about fifty years of age, Philip Jack- 
son by name. After talking for a few moments 
about things common to all simple mountain 
folks Uncle Eli turned to me, “ Lampkins,” said 
he, ** how did yer come outer-day with ’em cuss- 
fired boys.” 

'‘All right,” said I, "everything runs 
smoothly enough, Uncle Eli.” 

" Jest trying yer faith,” said he, " I will bet 
a pint of corn licker.” 

" They’ll try yer afore a week’s out and I’m 
betting on yer, ol’ boy ; flog ’em, flog ’em like 
the Devil and I will raise yer salary the day yer 
^hrash George Perkins ; I jest wish, Lampkins, 


32 


Har Lampkins. 


that I could cuss ’em boys ; I’d enjoy it more 
than I can tell yer, but Samantha says that a 
man can’t cuss and take the sacrament and I’m 
with her ; yes, sir, I’m with Samantha ever time 
the sacrament passes eroun’.” 

“That’s all right,” said Phil Jackson, “ I sed 
it an I’ll stick ter it. If yer can fight like my 
ole Kernel yer can teach that school, stranger.” 

I told him that I was not a fighting man, 
but I thought that I would be able to teach 
the school out. When I said this I saw a look 
of disappointment flit across Uncle Eli’s face. 
He was disappointed in me and expected me 
to fight. He looked at me a few moments and 
said : “ Lampkins, a man of yer size ort ter do 
some splendid fightin’, and I bet with Phil here, 
a pint of the best corn licker ever made in 
Clinch Mountain that yer’ll thrash ’em boys, 
and now yer ain’t a-goin’ ter do it.” 

“ Oh, papa,” cried Minnie, “ don’t want every- 
body to be fighting.” 

“That’s all right, Minnie; I like ter see a 
young man develop his muscles and at the 
same time improve the ways and means of 
some of the cuss-fired boys in this here 
neighborhood.” 

“If he kin fight like my ole Kernel,” said 
Phil, “ he ken teach that school,” When he 


33 


School Opens. 

said this he pulled a deck of cards from his 
pocket and proposed a game with Uncle Eli. 

I declined their invitation to join in the 
game and took down the volume of Blackstone 
from the shelf, and began studying it. “ Nary a 
time,” said Uncle Eli, “ no more harm in a game 
than taking the sacrament, and now, Phil, every 
time I beat, I take a drink of corn licker, and 
every time you win you do the same.” They 
both produced their “ Black Betty’s ” and set 
them upon their right and as Phil carefully set 
his treasure down he said : If thar is anything 
on top of the yearth that will make me play it 
is corn licker.” 

Some one stopped at the gate and I arose to 
see the newcomer, and I saw that Miss Minnie 
Jones had met him at the gate and that it was 
Henry Johnson. 

They walked up to the house together. 

“Hello, Henry,” said Uncle Eli; “have a 
seat,” continued he, “and tell us how your folks 
air, while Phil and myself finish this here game.” 

“ Play, Phil. Hold on there, Phil,” said 
Uncle Eli, “ blast my cats ef yercan cheat me.'” 

“ Didn’t try to cheat yer,” said Phil. 

“You tried ter steal ther game.” 

“ I didn’t do it.” 

“ Ye’re a liar ! ” shouted Uncle Eli. 

3 


34 


“ Har Lampkins.” 


Hold on, Eli, you’ve named my fighting 
word and if yer can’t fight like my ole Kernel 
I’ll wallop the daylites out er yer, and I’ll ” 

“Stop!” broke in Uncle Eli, “you’ve done 
named my fighting word and yer knowed it, 
we’ll jest go over ter the big sink hole and fight 
it out.” 

Each one gathered his own flask, and Uncle 
Eli took the precaution to shove the deck into 
his pants pocket, and they both started to the 
sink hole in white heat. 

When they had fully cleared the door, Henry 
and Minnie burst out laughing. Seeing my 
puzzled expression they explained to me that 
it was an old game with them. 

Mrs. Joines was away and they thought that 
Miss Minnie was busily engaged about the 
kitchen and household affairs, and their game 
would not be interrupted by either of them, 
and would not have been if Henry had not come 
to spend the evening, but as he did the sink 
hole was their only place of refuge, and to this 
they went under the cover of a fictitious insult 
that must be resented. 

“ They think,” said Miss Minnie, “ that we do 
not know this and mother doesn’t. It won’t 
be long until we will see them return arm-in- 
arm as happy as two children.” 


School Opens. 35 

We all laughed and I was very much amused 
at the cunning of these two men to escape the 
lecture of Mother Jones. 

Miss Minnie excused herself and Henry and 
I were left together. We talked of the dif- 
ferent professions and at last we touched upon 
the profession of law, and I told him that I 
hoped some time to be able to enter that pro- 
fession. We talked on pleasantly until supper 
was announced by Mrs. Jones. 

“Uncle Eli and Phil,” I said to Henry, 
“ must be fighting yet, as they are not here for 
supper.” 

After supper was over I strolled out leaving 
Henry and his sweetheart together ; I wanted 
to be out and dream of the dark eyes that I 
had seen the first night that I spent at the 
Captain's. I strolled down by the spring and 
across the strip of woodland that lay close by, 
and as I walked on I heard voices that seemed 
very much excited. 

“ And,” said Phil, “ you’ve (hie) tok the 
sacrament (hie) once more than I (hie) have.” 

“Well, let it all go (hie), and go to the house 
(hie), but I played for that one drink.” 

I strolled on, and soon after returned to 
the house as Henry was just leaving. I bade 
him good night and went up to my room. The 


36 “ Har Lampkins.” 

next morning at breakfast Mrs. Jones told me 
that Henry was coming over the following 
Sunday and his sister was coming with him. 
My heart leaped to my throat and I tried to 
hide m^^ embarrassment, and murmured some- 
thing, far from being intelligent, about being 
glad. The week dragged itself too slowly by. 
I looked forward anxiously to the first day of 
the week and my heart beat faster when I 
thought of meeting lovely Lucy Johnson again. 
My dream returned and I remembered how 
angry her father looked and how his dark eyes 
struck fire and shot darts of hatred at me. I 
could see her lovely white hands outstretched 
towards me and her long beautiful tresses float- 
ing to the breeze as her lover bore her away, 
but I remembered that she did not speak to 
me. I wondered what she thought of me, or 
whether or not she thought of me at all, and 
my thoughts drifted away on the silvery sea of 
love's first dream, but I could see beyond the 
breakers that it was tinged with a border of 
gold. 


CHAPTER V. 

AN EVENING ON THE CLIFFS. 

Sunday morning came and I was up long 
before the dew had ceased to hang in crystal 
drops from the leaves of the trees. 

I walked down to the spring and across the 
fields to watch the sun rise. I walked with 
long strides down by the old mill and back 
by the cliff, making a circle and returning to 
the house. Breakfast was ready and I felt like 
eating after my exercise. I thought Miss Min- 
nie looked sweeter than I had ever seen her. 
Her cheeks wore the bloom of health and she 
was in excellent spirits. I dreamed through 
breakfast and wondered if she was as deeply 
concerned about her guests as myself. The 
morning was yet young when Henry and his 
sister rode up. Miss Jones met them down at 
the gate, and while Henry fastened the horses, 
they kissed each other affectionately, and in 
that kiss I caught a glimpse of Miss Johnson’s 
face, and it wore the same expression that it 
did in my dream, 


37 


“ Har Lampkins.” 


38 

They walked up to the house with Henry, 
and I shook hands with Henry and his sister. 
As Miss Johnson’s hand touched mine I felt my 
old embarrassment returning. She pretended 
not to notice it and I soon found myself more 
at ease. 

The noon hour came long before I 'expected 
it, and in the afternoon Henry, the two young 
ladies and myself left the house to ascend to 
the top of a high cliff that overlooked the beau- 
tiful country. 

We sat on the top of the cliff and looked far 
away across the country to where the moun- 
tains rose higher and higher and the farthest 
of them resembled a cloud of blue smoke. 

We could see the homes of the simple moun- 
taineers and far down towards the west there 
ran the Clinch River, a beautiful mountain 
stream that wound itself in and out among the 
hills like a thread of silver among a world of 
cloud-smoked mountains. 

We talked of the beautiful scenery, Miss John- 
son pointing out to me the places most historic, 
and calling my attention to the grand scenery 
that lay to the east. 

We could see the Paint Lick Mountains, and 
the House and Barn Mountains, and many 
other places of interest. 


An Evening on the Cliffs. 39 

Miss Johnson explained to me that Paint 
Lick Mountain was so called because pictures 
of horses and deer and various other animals 
were pictured there by the Indians and that 
they could be distinctly seen to this day. 

“ I should like to visit those rocks/’ said I. 

“ Suppose we get Henry to take us,” said 
Miss Johnson. “ We have a cousin living near 
there and we can easily drive there in a day ; 
we will spend the night with my cousin, visit 
the cliffs the next day and return home the 
day following.” 

Henry promised that we should go, and I sat 
like one in a trance wondering if it was really 
myself. 

The evening was too soon gone and the sun 
was giving a golden tint to the mountain tops 
where we had been feasting our eyes, when we 
left the cliff. 

The tall firs and pines were nodding and smil- 
ing a good night to each other when we reached 
the house. I walked back with Miss Johnson 
in silence, both happy and miserable. She too 
appeared to be thinking. 

The horses were ready, and after bidding us 
good-by and requesting us to visit them. Miss 
Minnie Jones and I were left together in the. 
twilight, which was stealing gently around us. 


40 


“Har Lampkins.” 


The whippoorwill’s melancholy note fell upon 
my ear and far away down the valley I could 
hear the farmer calling his hogs and the low 
moaning of the cows as they gathered around 
the milk-maid. 

The sun was set and the dew was falling; a 
star peeped out at me and I looked about and 
saw that I was alone ; the moon rose slowly 
over the hill-tops and smiled at me ; the night- 
ingale, the sweet singer of the night, warbled 
forth its sweet notes and on its wings my 
thoughts flew back to my childhood’s days at 
home. 

I felt my mother’s kiss and I heard my fa- 
ther’s voice and my pet dog came and laid down 
at my feet, and I played as in my childhood by 
the babbling brook and lived again as in my 
early days, “ running wild among the flowers.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

AN ENCOUNTER WITH GEORGE PERKINS. 

My school opened up the following morning 
with very little change. I was well pleased with 
the interest some of my students were mani- 
festing and especially George Perkins. I had 
begun to censure other teachers for not treat- 
ing them fairly. I had believed that he meant 
what he said the first night that I met him. 
“ Thar'll be no trouble, stranger, if yer treat us 
right,'' and I determined to do my part in this 
direction and I felt he was going to do his. 

The week was almost gone and the only 
thing that had happened to break the quiet 
of the school was the flipping of acorns from 
some mischievous boy, or at least I supposed it 
to be a small boy, such as the country school 
only can furnish. 

The most disagreeable part of it was, that 
the acorns were invariably thrown at me when 
my back was to the school. I could not catch 
the mischievous young rascal, although I tried 
hard to do so ; if I inquired, no one saw it and 
every one was very studious at that particular 

41 


42 


“ Har Lampkins.” 


time. I determined to catch the offender ; I 
placed a small mirror on the wall so arranged 
that I could see the greater part of the school 
with my back towards them. I had walked 
down the aisle and was returning, keeping my 
eye constantly on the glass. As I neared the 
wall, I saw George Perkins raise his hand and 
throw, not an acorn this time but a walnut. It 
was well aimed and struck me squarely in the 
back of the head. I turned around very quick- 
ly and every one was very busy with their 
books. I inquired who threw the walnut but 
no one knew. I told them that I knew who 
threw it and I would rather that they would 
frankly confess the truth and that they were 
too large to think of making false impressions 
upon people and especially their teacher. 

“ Who are you flinging that at ? ” said George 
Perkins. 

“ I am not flinging it at any one,” said I, “ but 
I am talking to you, George ; you threw that 
walnut.” 

At this he jumped to his feet and strode half- 
way up the aisle toward me ; here he stopped 
and said : “ I want yer ter understand that I’ve 
licked every teacher since I ken reckerlick, and 
if yer don’t git down on yer knees ter me, I’ll 
lick yer, I’ll lick yer here and now.” 


An Encounter with George Perkins. 43 

“ There is but one to whom I kneel,” said I, 
“ and if you want to risk your reputation as a 
fighter before this school, wade in.” 

“Ye’re a liar and a coward,” shouted George, 
and with this he rushed at me ; he struck, but 
I stepped aside and only felt the wind of his 
stroke as I caught him under the right jaw with 
my left and he went tumbling down in the 
corner; by this time Jim Peters, Jake Smith 
and two other boys, whose names, for the sake 
of their parents, I will not mention, were in the 
aisle ready for a fight. Jim came first ; I step- 
ped to the left and served him with my right, 
and he took possession of the opposite corner, 
while Jake and his two companions measured 
their lengths in the aisle. I was careful in se- 
lecting their places for them to fall, so that 
they would not crush any of the smaller chil- 
dren. I thought that while they were down 
it would be a good time to teach them a lesson 
that they had not yet learned. I had a good 
beech limb and I proceeded to inform George 
Perkins of it first and the others later, and 
by the time had I finished this it was my hour 
to bring the duties of a pedagogue to a close. 
I dismissed my school and went my way slowly 
back to Uncle Eli’s. He had met some of the 
students on the road and they had told him 


44 “ Har Lampkins/’ 

what had happened ; he ran down the hill like 
a schoolboy and met me, grabbed my hand, 
while tears rolled down his honest and time- 
wrinkled face. “ Oh, Lampkins,” he exclaim*ed, 
“ I hearn all about it, I hearn all about it,” 
still crying and shaking my hands, you’re my 
kind, you are, and I raised your salary, I did, 
before you got home.” 

“ What’s the matter. Uncle Eli ? ” I 
asked. 

“ Say, Lampkins, it beats the worl’ the way 
that you did lay out ’em cuss-fired boys, and 
on this,” he continued, “ I am not taking the 
sacrament but straight drinks, same as I did 
when I won the snake victory over Samantha 
and the Circuit Rider.” 

Uncle Eli’s joy amused me and I could see 
his “ straight drinks ” had something to do 
with it. He produced his “ Black Betty ” 
again, and after toasting all the great men that 
he could think of, the American Eagle and 
myself, he took one of his straight drinks and 
said, “ I wish I could of been than” I looked 
up the path and saw Mother Jones coming 
down towards us. 

Say, Lampkins,” whispered Uncle Eli, 
“don’t tell her I’m drinking, and after this I’ll 
jest take the sacrament and nothing more.” 


An Encounter with George Perkins. 45 

“Didn’t I tell you so!” said Uncle Eli to 
his wife when she came up. 

“ What did you tell me, pap ? ” said Mrs. 
Jones in her kind way. 

“ Why now, blast my skin, didn’t I tell you 
that he would fight like a cinnamon bear ; this 
beats darnation, Lampkins, throwing insults in 
my face ; yes, sir, I told her that you would 
lick ’em, and now you have, I have raised 
your salary and nobody can git that school but 
Lampkins, while Uncle Eli’s head is kivered 
over with gray hair, and I want you to remem- 
ber what I say too, Samantha.” 

Just as "Tncle Eli was finishing up with his 
little speech Phil came down to where we 
stood. 

“ Here, Phil,” shouted Uncle Eli, “ this is 
the braves’ man on the top side of yearth ; yes, 
sir, he licked the whole school to-day and not 
a hair missin’.” 

“ I told you,” said Phil, “ if he could fight 
like my ole Kurnel he could teach that school.” 

“ Fight like the ole Kurnel,” repeated Uncle 
Eli, “ he can lick all the Kurnels in yer ridge- 
ment ; didn’t I tell yer that he was the blast- 
edest fighter on the yearth.” 

“See here, Eli,” said Phil, “we are powerful 
good friends but no man could lick my Kur- 


“ Har Lampkins. 


46 

neland I can lick any man that thinks he can,’' 
and with that he struck at Uncle Eli, but missed 
him. Uncle Eli landed one square between 
Phil’s eyes which sent Phil flat on his back into 
the mud-puddle, where the hogs had been 
wallowing. 

“ Holy Moses ! ” shouted Phil, squirting dirty 
water from his mouth and nose ; “ thunder- 
struck again.” 

“ No,” said Uncle Eli, “ Elijah, God's chosen 
servant, was making a gesture and you acted 
the hog and wallowed in the mire.” 

I was laughing at them and even good Mother 
J ones had to give vent to a smile. Phil climbed 
out of the puddle, mud and water dripping 
from his clothing. 

“Want some help?” asked Uncle Eli. 

“No, none of your help, and if you can’t 
fight like my Kurnel I’ll lick yer fer this, by 
Harry I will.” 

“ I can lick yer and lick yer ole Kurnel too,” 
replied Uncle Eli, and I could see that his 
eyes glistened like fire and that he felt what 
he said. 

“ Can’t do it,” said Phil, “ I kin whip any 
man on the top side of the yearth who throws 
off my Kurnel.” 

“Say, Phil,” said Uncle Eli, “go to the 


An Encounter with George Perkins. 47 

house and get some clean clothes on ; you 
don’t expect a gentleman to fight you in a 
filthy condition, do you ? ” 

‘^Yer don’t want to fight me neither,” said 
Phil. 

Yes, I do, I am just spoiling for a fight 
with you.” 

“ Here, Samantha,” he continued, ^^give Phil 
my Sunday breeches and a clean shirt and we 
will go to the sink hole and fight to a finish ; 
he won’t need no coat, I will warm him up, 
by thunder I will. No, sir, Lampkins,” he 
continued, ‘‘ we have never fit ter a finish, but 
we’re more’n likely to do some good fitin’ as 
we’re mad this evening ; yes, sir, I am as mad 
as a man can git.” 

Talk about a bull,” retorted Phil, you 
are nothing but an old one-horned billy- 
goat.” 

Come Uncle Eli,” I said, ** I thought you 
were going to take the sacrament on me.” 

Can’t take anything till I am through with 
Phil here.” 

“ It is an infernal shame to have my ole 
Kurnel slandered and I won’t stand it.” 

^‘You weren’t standing a minute ago,” re- 
torted Uncle Eli. 

Mother Jones and I concluded that they had 


48 “ Har Lampkins.” 

quarreled enough, so we persuaded them to go 
with us. 

“All right, mother,” said Uncle Eli, 
“you’re the best woman on the top side of the 
yearth and I’ll do what you want me to do.” 

“And you nursed me back to life,” said 
Phil, “ when I was wounded fighting for my 
ole Kurnel. Gad ! he was a fighter, weren’t 
he. Eel ? ” 

“ I don’t know nothing ’bout him,” said 
Uncle Eli, “ but ole Jackson licked him off 
the face of the yearth.” 

“ Look out. Eel, or I’ll ,” said Phil, 

when Mother Jones broke in with, 

“ Come, I’m not going to have any more of 
this.” 

“All right, mother,” said Uncle Eli and 
Phil together, and they walked up to the house 
with us. After Phil had changed his clothes 
they were like two brothers, and both expressed 
themselves well pleased with their day’s work. 

“ Here, Lampkins,” said Uncle Eli, “step 
out here, I want ter see yer a minit.” When we 
were outside he continued. “ Thar’s a-gwine 
ter be trouble in this here neighborhood and 
you’ll hafter do sum fightin’ or else Uncle 
Eli’s a fool.” 

“ What will bring on the trouble?” I asked. 


An Encounter with George Perkins. 49 

“ Why, ’em cuss-fired boys yer licked ter- 
day,” said he ; “ you don’t know ’em, Lampkins, 
the next time they tackle yer, they’ll use their 
irons, and the best thing ter do is ter take a 
cupple er good guns, shoot the tops of their 
heads off, jest like killin’ snakes, and I want 
ter say right here, Lampkins, Uncle Eli’s with 
yer from hoof ter hide. Say, Lampkins,” 
he continued, nodding towards the house, 
“ Phil, in thar, is er trump. He’ll stand by 
us, and with him we ken lick er ridgement of 
’em.” 

“ I hope there will be no fighting,” I replied, 
“ and if there is I will insist on you and Phil 
staying out of trouble.” 

“ Don’t say that, Lampkins,” said Uncle Eli. 
Look,” he continued with a wave of his hand, 
“ I have licked er young bully almost on every 
five hundred acres yer can see, and now air yer 
a-goin’ to refuse the request of an ole man and 
break my heart ? ” With tears rolling down his 
cheeks he went on : “I have prayed for a 
teacher that could lick George Perkins, and 
now yer done it, yer won’t let me stand by 
yer.” 

I told him that if I needed him he should 
be in it, but at the present I must manage it 
alone. He went into the house and told 
4 


50 


" Har Lampkins. 


mother about my decision, and left me study- 
ing what was the best course to pursue. I 
stood thus for a time thinking, Miss Minnie 
Jones came out, and said to me, “ Mr. Lamp- 
kins, I am so glad that you refused to let papa 
take any hand in this affair.” 

** I don’t think that I will need any help,” 
I replied. 

But you must prepare yourself for them ; 
they are a cowardly and dangerous set and 
will not attack you openly. Change your 
route,” she went on, “ to the schoolhouse and 
do not travel the same one very often.” 

“ But,” said I, “ if they attack me from am- 
bush, what can I do ? They could kill me before 
I was even aware of danger.” 

“ They’ll not do that,” she replied. “ They 
will attack you in squads of five or six, and at- 
tempt to compel you to throw up your hands, 
and tie and beat you unmercifully with 
withes.” 

“ And what course do you suggest ? ” I 
asked. 

“ Go prepared,” she answered, “ and if they 
attack you, use your own judgment.” 

I knew what that judgment would be ; I de- 
cided that some one would be hurt if they at- 
tacked me upon the highway. I felt by this 


An Encounter with George Perkins. 51 

time like my friend Phil’s “ Ole Kurnel,” and 
that if it took fighting to teach out my school, 
I would do the best that I could for them. I 
went to bed that night and slept soundly. I 
awoke early and dressed and prepared myself 
for the duties of the day. 

The “ King of Day” was still melting the 
frost from the rails and roofs when I reached 
the schoolhouse. I had been inside but a few 
moments when Henry Johnson rode up. We 
exchanged greetings, and he asked me about 
the fight of the day before. 

I told him as nearly as I could how it hap- 
pened ; he told me to be on my. guard and take 
no chances, but to act at once if I was at- 
tacked ; he asked me to spend that night with 
him, which I promised to do. He said that he 
would call for me that evening and rode away. 


CHAPTER Vll. 

A NIGHT AT CAPTAIN JOHNSON’S. 

That evening Henry came for me and we 
drove over to the Captain’s. He met us down 
at the gate, and shook my hand heartily and 
said that he was glad to see me looking so 
well. 

The Captain conducted me into the house 
where I was welcomed by Mrs. Johnson and 
her daughter. We had been in the house but 
a little while whenCaptain Johnson said tome: 
“ Mr. Lampkins, I hear that you are succeed- 
ing splendidly with your school.” 

“Yes,” I replied. “I am doing the best I 
can, and teaching in my own way.” 

I saw that he* was disappointed, for this was 
not what he expected. He wanted me to tell 
him of the trouble that I had had with George 
Perkins and his gang. 

“ How are you and George Perkins getting 
along together ? ” he asked. 

“ He was not at school to-day,” I answered. 

“Mr. Lampkins,” said he, “don’t pretend 
to misunderstand me, for it did us all good to 

52 


A Night at Captain Johnson's. 53 

hear that you had flogged those young rascals, 
and we want you to tell us all about it.” 

I did not want to mention this little fight 
before Miss Lucy, and his last remark embar- 
rassed me, but I said to him, “Oh, it was 
nothing much, and would not interest you, and 
besides this I do not like to speak of unpleasant 
things in the presence of ladies.” 

“ Oh,” said Mrs. Johnson, “ we will be glad 
to hear it.” 

“Yes; please tell us all about it,” said 
Lucy. 

I then recited as nearly as I could what had 
happened. When I had finished the Captain 
said to me, “ Lampkins, you will have trouble 
with those boys and I want you to be pre- 
pared.” 

“ I hardly anticipate any further trouble,” 
I answered. 

“Yes, but you do not know them,” said he. 
“ Before the week is out they will try to get 
even with you, and I want it understood that 
Captain Johnson is with you.” 

I thanked him and told him that I thought 
that I could manage them even if they did at- 
tack me. 

“ Lampkins,” said the Captain, “ come, I want 
to show you some of my fine saddle-horses/' 


“ Har Lampkins/' 


54 

I arose and went with him ; he took my arm 
as we walked down the walk together. 

1 will tell you,” said he, I do want to show 
you my horses, but I want to tell you some- 
thing that perhaps you have not heard since 
you have been among us.” 

Then he abruptly asked me what I thought 
of Uncle Eli. 

“ I like the old gentleman,” I replied. 

“ Yes ; he is a trump, and I never speak about 
what I am going to say before my family ; yes, 
he is the only man this side of the Blue Ridge 
that ever thrashed me, but if he were to whip a 
regiment he would never mention it.” 

“I thought that you and Uncle Eli were 
good friends. Captain.” 

“ We are ; that was ten years ago, and we 
were friends the next day. But what I want 
to say is this, Lampkins ; depend on what Uncle 
Eli tells you, and be on your guard all the time 
for those boys, for they have more than once 
held up and tied a poor school teacher and 
whipped him until he was glad to leave the 
neighborhood, and they will try to do the same 
thing with you, .unless I am very much mis- 
taken ; they will be some time,” he continued, 
' in arranging the place and time of attack; it 
may be a week or it may not be that long, but 


A Night at Captain Johnson’s. 55 

it will come ; they will either attack you going 
to or coming from school." 

** I do not believe in fighting," I answered, 
** but if the worst comes I mean to defend my- 
self." 

“ Certainly, defend yourself, and win either 
by fair means or by foul, and if it is necessary 
I am with you, Lampkins. I want you to 
teach out that school." 

“ Captain, I began to teach that school and 
I mean to do it ; I will admit that numbers are 
against me in this little matter, but I am going 
to stand my ground." 

“ Good ! " he exclaimed, slapping me on the 
shoulder; “and here, I want you to take this 
brace of pistols and if it comes tothe worst use 
them." When ‘he said this he held out to me a 
couple of blued steel Smith & Wessons. 

“ Captain, I am very much obliged to you, 
but I cannot take them ; I will not carry guns 
for the purpose of shooting boys that were once 
my school children." 

“ Lampkins, do act sensible about this, and 
don’t throw yourself on their mercy." 

“ I am not doing that. Captain ; I am acting 
solely upon, my own judgment, and if a scrap 
must come, I feel that I will be equal to the 
occasion without any fire-arms." 


56 Har Lampkins/' 

So much like her/' I heard the Captain 
mutter in a vary low voice that he did not in- 
tend for me to hear, and the daring look on his 
face gave way to one of melancholy, and his 
piercing black eyes had a far-away look in them- 
The same expression and strange quiet de. 
meanor took possession of him the first time 
that I had been to his house, when he spoke of 
my family and inquired about myself. 

When the Captain had finished his melan- 
choly thinking, he took me around to his stable 
to show me his horses. I think he was per- 
fectly justifiable in the pride that he felt in 
the glossy chestnut sorrels, beautiful blacks 
and graceful grays with their long soft manes. 
He pointed each of them out by name and 
spoke of their fine qualities ; he called my at- 
tention especially to a bright bay that he called 
Lightfoot," and said that it was his daughter's. 
“ He is the finest horse in my stable, and one 
among the fleetest ; he suits Lucy exactly, and 
she loves him ; she often brings little dainties 
here for him to eat and he shows his affection 
by neighing to her, and will follow her about 
the place. It is amusing to watch in how 
many little ways he manifests his appreciation 
of her kindness." 

We returned to the house and in due course 


A Night at Captain Johnson’s. 57 

of time supper was announced. I ate rather 
heartily, and after the meal was over we chatted 
about the beautiful scenery and the people and 
the Captain's horses, and went so far as to in- 
dulge in a little bit of innocent gossip, which 
is so dear to all female hearts and consoling to 
a goodly number of the opposite sex. Henry 
and Miss Lucy gave us some delightful music 
on a piano and violin, and in my sleep my soul 
swung out on the sweet strains that drifted far 
way towards the dreamland. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


THE ATTACK. 

The morning did not resemble the other 
morning, the one on which I was dreaming 
when the Captain’s voice bade me arise. 

Instead of the sunshine the rain was pour- 
ing down and the water stood in ponds over 
the fields. Henry would not hear to my walk- 
ing to school, but drove me over and set me 
down at the door dry and comfortable. 

The day passed off quietly and no sign of an 
approaching storm from George Perkins and 
his comrades could be detected ; the rain still 
continued to pour, and the continual dripping 
from the eaves of the house made a strange 
sweet music that I liked to hear, and soothed 
my burning soul. Like oil upon troubled 
waters, it drew my mind from the deep brown 
eyes, and radiant hair, and yet ever and anon 
I could see a smile that held for me a fascina- 
tion that I cannot express. 

Perhaps, dear reader, you have felt the same 
feeling and lived through the same burning 
S8 


The Attack. 59 

days with blazing hours and fiery minutes; 
when your young soul was on fire and your 
heart melted to honey dew under a smile, and 
at a word out of her saucy rosebud mouth 
it turned to ice, and a smile died in its infancy 
on your lips. 

You remember when you would steal away 
in the twilight and compare her eyes to the 
stars, and her hair to a floss of gold dripping 
from the moon, and there sit and dream. You 
remember when love was first dawning upon 
your soul ; a warm, sweet sensation, as it flashed 
through your being, at a look or a word or a 
touch of the gentle hand. 

Go back to those early days when love was 
yet but a child, and when love’s dream had not 
been ruffled, and you will have some idea of 
what I felt that day. 

I sat in my humble little schoolhouse listen- 
ing to the dripping of the rain from the eaves 
of the house, and watched the drops trickle 
from the branches of the trees. 

I wended my way slowly back to Uncle 
Eli’s when my day’s work had been finished, and 
thus days softly glided by. 

It had been nearly two weeks since the fight 
in the schoolhouse, and I was thinking that the 
j^oung men had decided to let me earn an 


6o 


“ Har Lampkins.’* 


honest living in peace. I had noticed that 
every morning and evening Henry Johnson, 
and sometimes his sister, would pass me on 
the way to or from school. This was Friday 
morning. I was light-hearted and happy. My 
school was progressing nicely and the children 
had become attached to me, and I was grow- 
ing fonder of them. I liked the little peculi- 
arities that each one of them possessed, that 
made them entirely different from all the 
others. I was thinking of what true, manly 
spirits the most of them possessed, when the 
click of a gun and the words Halt, d — n you ! ” 
fell upon my ears. I looked in the direction of 
the command and I saw, running down the hill 
towards me, George Perkins and his four com- 
panions, all armed with mountain rifles, shot- 
guns or pistols. I saw clearly their intention, 
as one of them carried a cord and a bundle of 
withes under his arm. I sprang nimbly over 
the bank of the road ; as I did so I saw George 
Perkins’ gun leveled upon me and two shots 
rang out almost simultaneously, but I heard 
some one say : “ My God, boys, I am shot.” 

“ Throw up your hands, or there will be more 
of you shot,” and I recognized Henry John- 
son’s voice. 

I sprang upon the bank just opposite Henry ; 


The Attack. 


6i 

as I did so they fired at us ; a bullet grazed my 
cheek. I snatched a revolver from Henry’s 
hands, raised it and fired and Jim Peters fell 
beside George Perkins ; the three others ran 
for the cover of a large poplar log that lay a 
few yards away. We knew that we were at a 
disadvantage as we stood in full view, and that 
it would only be a short time until our bodies 
would be riddled with bullets if we remained 
where we now were. I leaped over the bank 
and called to Henry to follow me. We took 
cover under a large log that served as part of 
the road bank. We were compelled to lay 
quite close to the, ground, so as not to expose 
our persons to the enemy. 

Henry, at every few minutes, carefully raised 
his head to see if he could get a shot at any of 
them. I begged him not to expose himself, 
and if possible to avoid any other bloodshed. 

“They are not very anxious for any further 
bloodshed,” said Henry, “ unless it is ours.” 

He raised his hat on a stick, about a foot 
above the top of the log, under which we lay 
and three shots quickly rang out, and three 
holes were punctured in his hat. 

“ Now,”, said Henry, “ watch when I raise 
it again and see if you can get a shot.” 

My blood was up, but I was very careful not 


62 


Har Lampkins.'’ 


to get my head any farther up than was abso*- 
lutely necessary. Henry raised the hat and I 
saw a leg move at the end of the log behind which 
our enemies were fortified. I took a snap-shot 
at it, and instead of three shots four were heard 
Three more holes were in the hat and one in 
Jake Smith’s leg; he* screamed like a panther 
and jumped to his feet, but only remained an 
instant. I knew that I had wounded him, but 
just how badly I could not tell. 

“ Getting them pretty well down to our own 
number,” said Henry. 

''Yes,” I replied. 

We lay thus for more than two hours, each 
party waiting for an opportunity to annihilate 
the other. 

The situation was becoming extremely un- 
pleasant, when we heard Uncle Eli say, 
" Throw up your hands or I will blow the hull 
top'of yer danged heads off.” 

We jumped to our feet and looked up the 
hill about thirty yards above the log, and saw 
Uncle Eli and my old friend Phil both looking 
over the sights of double-barreled shot-guns. 
The boys took in the situation and threw up 
their hands. 

" Here, Lampkins,” called out Uncle Eli, 
" have yer got er rope ? ” 


The Attack. 


63 

“They have,” I replied, “snatching up the 
rope that Jim Peters had dropped when I shot 
him. I went up to them and tied their’hands, 
and found that I had only wounded Jake Smith 
slightly in the leg. When I had finished. Uncle 
Eli inquired what had become of Perkins. I 
pointed to where George Perkins and Jim Peters 
lay. 

“ By Gad,” exclaimed Phil, “he fights more 
like my ole Kurnel than anybody on the top 
side of the yearth.” 

“ Didn’t I tell yer?” said Uncle Eli. “I 
knowed it from the cut of his eye ; blast my 
hide, Phil, if we can’t take Lampkins and Henry 
and thrash the whole neighborhood, and I be- 
lieve that we will do it.” 

I went down to where George Perkins and 
Jim Peters lay ; I felt their pulses and examined 
their wounds. I found that they were alive 
but very weak from the loss of blood. 

Henry jumped into his saddle and dashed 
away after the doctor about four miles dis- 
tant. 

“Let 'em die,” said Uncle Eli, “let ’em die; 
the sooner the better.” 

“Jest like my ole Kurnel,” said Phil, “can’t 
bear to see a man suffering.” I paid no atten- 
tion to their remarks; I emptied the little 


“ Har Lampkins."' 


64 

bucket in which I carried my dinner to school, 
and brought some water from the spring 
near by. I held it first to George’s lips and 
then to Jim’s. I washed their faces and tore 
my handkerchief in two and laid it on their 
wounds, which I kept thoroughly wet with 
water. They were conscious, but would not 
speak to me and did not even look at me. 

** I jist thought,” said Uncle Eli, “ that there 
was something in the air, so we came over this 
er way.” 

Mighty glad we come,” said Phil. 

“Yes,” said Uncle Eli, “and here and now 
I don’t take the sacrament, but a straight 
drink, the same as I did when I outgineraled 
Samantha and the Circuit Rider, and the same 
when Lampkins had his first fight,” and with 
this he took his flask from his coat pocket, took 
a drink, smacked his lips and muttered : “ Best 
thing on top side of yearth.” 

“Try one, Phil,” and Phil did so. 

“What a pity,” said Phil, “wanted to try 
my hand again ; blamed if I don’t feel jist like 
my old Kurnel was here giving orders.” 

“ If it weren’t for my belonging to the church, 
I don’t think that they would have surren- 
dered ; no. I’ll tell yer the truth, Phil,” contin- 
ued Uncle Eli in a lower tone, “ it was not that 


The Attack. 


65 

that kept me from shooting ’em ; it was my 
promise to mother ; I could git over my relig- 
ion, the Lord mought forgive a man, but a 
woman never. 

“ Yes, I promised Samantha, if there was any 
way out uv it never ter hurt a man agin, and 
I mean to keep my word, but had them chaps 
showed fight, this would uv been the happiest 
moment uv my life.” 

The doctor came dashing up and soon ex- 
amined the wounded boys. I looked on with 
bated breath and fervently prayed that they 
might recover, not that my conscience did not 
approve of the course that I was forced to pur- 
sue, but I thought of their mothers and their 
aged fathers, and I knew the grief that it would 
bring them, as well as to my own dear moth- 
er’s heart ; I knew that it would wound my 
mother very deeply to know that, even in self- 
defense, I had been forced to take that which 
none but God could give ; I thought, too, of 
my little sister, who, when I was returning 
from the school or the field, ran down to the 
branch and met me and threw her little chubby 
arms around my neck, and covered my face 
with kisses, 

“ In a few moments after the doctor arrived 
Henry and the Captain came up, and behind 

5 


66 


“ Har Lampkins. 


them followed a light spring wagon, bedded 
with bright clean straw. Kenry had prepared 
to have George and Jim sent home. While 
the doctor was dressing their wounds and 
making other little necessary arrangements for 
this purpose, Captain Johnson said to me, 
“ Lampkins, I would like to speak to you.” 

“ All right,” I replied, and we moved away 
from those around us. 

“ It is this, Mr. Lampkins, What course do 
you intend to pursue with the prisoners that 
you have ? ” 

'‘For the present,” I replied, “they must 
be secured in the county jail, and I will decide 
later on what course I will pursue.” 

“ That is what I would suggest, and before 
you go any farther towards prosecuting them, 
I would like to suggest some things to you that 
might prove beneficial in this case, Mr. Lamp- 
kins.” 

I thanked him and promised that he should 
have an opportunity to go over the matter 
with me. 

I assisted in placing George and Jim in the 
wagon as comfortably as possible. Phil had 
taken possession of the prisoners and declared 
that he would march them to jail by himself. 
Uncle Eli wanted to go with him but Phil 


The Attack. 


67 

swore that he would put them safely behind 
the bars before one o’clock, if he had to fight 
like his Ole Kurnel ” to do it. I felt confi- 
dent that he could do it, and at my suggestion 
he marched them away with a shot-gun on his 
shoulder, and a revolver dangling at each side. 

When I reached the schoolhouse I was some- 
what tardy, and the children, bareheaded, were 
running and playing in the yard ; a part of 
them were preparing their lessons, while others 
were laughing and talking; all were in a good 
humor, from the little girls with black, brown, 
and golden curls to the red-headed and freckle- 
faced boy who sat to my right. School went 
on as usual, the noon hour came, and the eve- 
ning sped away on minute wings and I strolled 
back to my home, the old dog met me with a 
friendly yelp. Lucy Johnson rode up and I 
assisted her to alight and walked up to the 
house with her ; opened the door and surprised 
Uncle Eli in a solemn act of taking the 
sacrament. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE DANCE AT CAPTAIN JOHNSON’S. 

Christmas morning came, and with it the 
prisoners, whom Phil had marched to jail, found 
themselves free. I had resolved not to prose- 
cute them, and with the influence of Captain 
Johnson, I had succeeded in getting the author- 
ities to concur with me in this view. George 
Perkins and Jim Peters were yet under the care 
of the physician, and would probably be for 
several weeks to come, but they were not for- 
gotten. 

A box of the nicest candy, the nicest that 
Petersville, the county seat, could afford, was 
sent to each of them. Uncle Eli and my good 
friend Phil seriously disapproved of the policy 
that I was pursuin g with my enemies, but 
Mother Jones and Miss Minnie were on my 
side, and with their influence I was soon en- 
abled to install myself again into their good 
graces. 

Henry Johnson and his sister, together with 

a few of Miss Minnie’s warmest friends, were 
68 


The Dance at Captain Johnson’s. 69 

invited to take dinner at Uncle Eli’s that day. 
Mother Jones and Miss Minnie were busily 
engaged in preparing the good things to be 
served for dinner. Uncle Eli and Phil were 
playing seven-up and taking two drinks to 
every game, but they never so far forgot them- 
selves as not to keep a close watch on the door 
for Mother Jones, who, unfortunately, opened 
the door at the moment Phil had placed the 
bottle to his lips with head tilted back. Between 
the desire to get the drinks and to keep Mother 
Jones from seeing him, and to hide the cards, 
he made a grab at the cards, sent them flying 
in every direction, strangled himself on the 
whisky and dropped the bottle and broke it. 

Thunderation, Phil,” exclaimed Uncle Eli, 
** broke the bottle, at the first drink ; mighty 
glad,” he continued, “ that I saved enough in 
this glass to take the sacrament.” 

“ Pap,” said Mother Jones, “ I don’t want you 
to get tight to-day.” 

I’m not goin’ ter, mother.” 

‘‘ I think that yer er very near tight now.” 

“ By gad, Lampkins,” said Uncle Eli, “ did 
you hear that? Can’t I take the sacrament on 
Christmas Day, when we all should remember 
the Lord, without getting drunk ? ” 

The guests had begun to arrive, and Uncle 


70 


** Har Lampkins.” 


Eli and Phil arose to put away the horses. 
This was the last that we saw of them until 
late that evening, when I heard Phil swearing 
like a sailor about his ^‘Ole Kurnel ” ; they 
walked up arm-in-arm, both as drunk as lords 
and feeling ten times richer. 

I put them to bed while Uncle Eli was tell- 
ing me how dearly he loved his Saviour, and 
that everybody ought to take the sacrament ; 
Phil was obeying the orders of his “ Ole Kurnel ” 
and fighting the battle of Gettysburg. 

The next morning Uncle Eli came to me and 
wanted me to say to Mother Jones that he 
would never take anything again, except a 
toddy before breakfast, and Phil was swearing 
to her at the same time that he would never 
play cards any more for the drinks. 

The day wore away and in the evening the 
snow was coming down softly. We made our- 
selves ready for the party at Captain Johnson’s 
that evening. I pictured to myself the pleasure 
of the evening and in it I could see graceful 
couples gliding smoothly over the polished floors 
and keeping step to the music, but my jealousy 
would assert itself when I tried to fancy Lucy 
Johnson with a handsome young man gliding 
gracefully over the floor to the soft sweet strains 
of the violin. I knew that this would be a grand 


The Dance at Captain Johnson’s. 71 

affair, for Captain Johnson did not do anything 
in a half-hearted manner. I was also aware 
there was not a man or woman in the County 
who did not consider themselves highly hon- 
ored to be the guests of Captain Johnson. 

We were among the first to arrive, but we 
had not been relieved of our wraps but a short 
time until the gay revelers came from all parts 
of the country and from Petersville, bringing 
with them the string band of which the town 
was wont to boast. 

There were present lawyers, physicians, the 
County representative. Judge Fulton’s daugh- 
ter, whose father was a noted lawyer in the 
western part of the State, and many well-to-do 
farmers’ sons and daughters. 

They were all dressed nicely and appeared 
joyous and happy. I was not embarrassed, 
as you would naturally suppose, but on the 
contrary I admired the beautiful young ladies 
and their handsome and well-dressed beaux. 

“ Partners fur the fust set,” called out the 
old darkey, who was destined to call the 
figures, and who, I soon learned, was accus- 
tomed to this kind of work for two or three 
months out of the year. 

Ten couples were soon on the floor, measur- 
ing time to the vibration of the Petersville 


72 


“ Har Lampkins. 


string band that was playing the Mississippi 
Sawyer, with might and main. 

“ Swing your partners, ” cried Uncle Tom, 
and Miss Lucy was swung gracefully around 
by a man whom I thought I had seen before. 
Presently his face was turned towards me and 
I recognized in him, Mr. Painter, the man to 
whom I sold my hog. At the same time Miss 
Lucy smiled at me, and in that smile I thought 
that I had discovered the secret of her heart ; 
she was in love with Painter, and my own 
heart sank deep down in the dark land of 
despair. 

Captain Johnson came over and sat down by 
me and pointed out the different couples to me. 

I had met them but I could not remember 
all their names. As the names of the young 
gentlemen were mentioned, he spoke of their 
different occupations and business qualifications 
and the success that each was making. He re- 
mained longer in an explanation of Mr. Painter 
than of the others, saying that he was a very 
shrewd trader and that he had made two thou- 
sand dollars during the past year speculating 
in hogs, and that he was quite a favorite 
among the young ladies of the neighbor- 
hood. 

“ Yes, sir, any young lady in this county 


The Dance at Captain Johnson’s. 73 

would jump at the chance of getting him for 
a husband.” 

“ Do they admire him for what he is or for 
what he has ? ” I asked. 

“ Both, I suppose, as young ladies must look 
out for their own interest in marrying.” 

“ Exactly,” said I, “ but their interest does 
not necessarily lie where the most money is 
held out to them.” 

“ Oh, the time has come, Mr. Lampkins,” 
said he, “ when young ladies must marry hus- 
bands with money, and not let a love senti- 
ment or a foolish imagination lead them to a 
poverty-stricken home.” 

“ I do not agree with you ; young ladies of 
any nerve of a true woman will consult her 
truest love and the dictates of her own heart, 
and choose happiness and love before riches 
without it ; call this foolish imagination or 
what you will, it is true.” 

He looked away from me and sighed, but 
did not answer ; he was meditating again ; his 
gloomy spell had struck him. 

The music was soft and sweet and the dance 
went on, and I studied his face, and in it I 
thought that I could detect traces of disap- 
pointment.- 

I speculated as to what it could be that af- 


74 Har Larnpkins.” 

dieted him in this manner when I was with 
him. 

The first set was finished and the couples 
were scattered here and there, and engage- 
ments were being made for the next set. 
Miss Lucy came over to where her father and 
I sat and spoke to her father about something 
in regard to the comfort of the guests ; she 
took the seat that I offered her and chatted 
pleasantly. 

I did not make any engagement for that set, 
but asked Miss Lucy for that honor in the 
set following. 

Mr. Painter came over and asked Lucy to 
dance that set with him. 

“ I will rest this set, thank you, Mr. Painter,” 
she answered. 

** Have you an engagement for the next set ? ” 

“ Yes, ” she answered, “ with Mr, Lampkins.” 

He bowed politely, looked daggers at me and 
turned away, and in that look I saw a reproduc- 
tion of the same that he wore in my dream, 
when he bore the Captain’s daughter away in 
his arms, while I was being crushed beneath 
her father’s wrath. 

Painter sought Miss Fulton and made an 
engagement for three sets ahead, and whirled 
away in the dance. 


The Dance at Captain Johnson's. 75 

I felt like a conqueror, with one side of my 
heart bursting with love, for she who stood be- 
side me and the other rent in twain with hatred 
for he who dared to disturb by look or smile 
my tranquil joy and happiness. 

Who is so happy as a young man sitting 
beside his first love with its golden dreams and 
brilliant fancies ; clasp her hand gently in yours, 
and all the sweet thoughts of Heaven, and 
the purest, gentlest sensations of earth fill 
your soul, and you dream of the possibilities 
of life as never before. You look forward to 
that blissful day when you shall stand around 
the sacred altar and take the solemn vow, not 
to be broken until death ; you can hear the 
low sweet voice of some one else, as she lays 
her lily and trusting hand in yours, and you 
drift down the golden age of life together, 
until you shall have reached the cataract of life 
and death, and even then you do not, cannot, 
^ separate, but the one gone on before presses the 
golden sands around the throne of God and 
touches the silver chords of an angel’s lyre, and 
its music floats down and draws the love cords 
stronger, firmer yet, around the one left behind, 
and your souls will meet and talk and perhaps 
hold sweet communion with other spirits. 


CHAPTER X. 

“ here’s to you, PHIL.” 

We sat and talked pleasantly over things 
that were very interesting to us, but no doubt 
dull to those around us, had they not been too 
busily engaged themselves to pay very close 
attention to what others were doing. 

The set was soon finished, and partners for 
the next set called. 

I whirled away with Miss Lucy in the dance 
and my thoughts were lost in it. I danced 
better that night than I ever did in my life. 
This was the only accomplishment that those 
with whom I had grown up, admired in me. 
Almost the first thing that I can remember 
was my dancing to the notes of my brother’s 
fiddle ; when I was six years old I could dance 
anything from the Arkansas Traveler to the- 
Highland Fling. I was exquisitely happy and 
felt that I was paid for all the cuffs that I had 
been subjected to since my early childhood. 
I danced that set and the next and the next 
and all that followed. My heart beat with rapid 
strokes under the warm sensation of love that 
7 ^ 


“ Here’s to You, Phil.” 77 

cannot be described, and my soul thrilled with 
peace and joy and passionate happiness, as the 
beautiful damsel beside me touched my hand or 
smiled upon me, through those large, clear 
brown eyes. 

I had thought her beautiful when I first met 
her, footsore, tired and worn as I was ; I 
thought her lovely when I sat beside her on 
the cliff that beautiful dreamy Sunday after- 
noon and as we viewed the landscape over to- 
gether. I thought her divine when she came 
and sat down with the Captain and myself and 
talked of happiness in a voice sweet to hear, 
but now I thought of more than all these, with 
the rose-bloom upon her cheeks and her velvet 
hair hanging like golden floss, and with her 
soul in her eyes, as tender and pure as the 
sweetest thoughts of heaven. Her eyes were 
as clear as diamonds, hedged about with emer- 
alds and shaded in costly hues. Her figure 
that ,of a goddess and her dancing like a 
nymph’s, on whose feet were silver sandals 
inlaid with pearl and tied with zephyr breezes. 
Her dress, though simple, as it had been dipped 
in the milky way where the star dust was 
brightest, and her laugh was light like nebulae 
from the skies and her breath was sweet unto 
intoxication. 


" Har Lampkins." 


78 

When the dance was over and I took my 
leave, I bent over her hand and kissed it ; my 
soul leaped out on velvet breezes and rode 
away to its own world of dream-thought, and 
reveled there, while I rode back to Uncle Eli’s 
just as the cock crew, announcing the coming 
dawn. I opened the door; as I did so. Uncle 
Eli raised a cup to his lips and said, “ Here’s to 
you, Phil. ” 


CHAPTER XI. 

GEORGE painter’s DEFEAT. 

The holidays that followed were filled with 
parties, dances and socials, given at the homes 
of the people present at the dance at Captain 
Johnson’s. I was invited to a part of them, 
to others I was not, and every one that I at- 
tended, George Painter was also there. He in- 
variably wanted to make engagements with 
Miss Lucy for the entire evening and I was 
equally anxious to prevent him, although not 
until the last dance I attended, did I attempt 
to make engagements very far in advance, but 
on New Year’s evening at Judge Fulton’s, with 
all the aristocracy of Petersville looking on, 
George Painter and I both found ourselves at 
the same time in the presence of Miss John- 
son, both asking for the first set almost at the 
same time ; George Painter saying so with his 
lips, and I was saying more with my eyes. I 
waited to hear her answer. I expected defeat 
but did not allow myself to admit it, for within 
there was two ruling passions : one was a burn- 

79 


8o 


** Har Lampkins. 


ing fire of love for Miss Lucy and the other a 
glowing coal of hatred for the hog speculator, 
not because we were both suitors for the same 
hand, but because he had treated me upon 
every occasion with such marked contempt 
that I heard it commented upon by a great 
many of the guests during the dances, and as 
many times did I feel rising up within me the 
mad desire to mash his handsome insolent 
mouth, but fearing that I would lose favor with 
her whom I desired to please I sacrificed the 
pleasure with the hope of being rewarded with 
her smile. 

Partners to their places,” called out the old 
darkey. 

Come,”, said Painter walking up to her and 
offering his arm, and I thought that I had lost. 

‘‘ No, I thank you,” she replied, and without 
further explanation she took my arm and we 
glided across the floor into the thickest of the 
dance, and left George Painter furiously grit- 
ting his teeth in anger like a spirited horse, but 
as sullen as an ass on a frosty morning. 

I could see that amazement and surprise 
were intermingled on every face ; they had 
been accustomed to seeing every opponent 
fall before the smooth tongue of George Paint- 
er, and every young lady within the limits of 


George Painter’s Defeat. 8i 

Petersville sought at every opportunity his 
honeyed words, and not only this but gossip 
had long since settled the destiny of the young 
and prosperous hog speculator and lovely, Lucy 
Johnson’s as one and the same. 

Amazement therefore soon gave way to 
other passions ; some were glad because he 
had in the past toyed with their affections and 
it was sweet to see his defeat. Others had 
hopes that he would return to them and de- 
clare that he always loved them and would 
love them still. The young men were glad 
because it piqued his pride and wounded his 
vanity ; others were glad because he was de- 
feated once in life before their very eyes, but 
I was happy, not because he was defeated but 
because I had won, and in winning I had shown 
a peacock his egotism, when his long and 
brilliant tail feathers were spread. 

I was Miss Johnson\s partner in each set of 
the dance, while Painter turned his attention 
in a reckless manner to the haughty beauty, 
Miss Fulton ; he appeared gayer and careless 
with his sparkling wit, but it had a tinge of 
bitterness, on his face was written revenge, and 
his eyes spoke hatred when they met mine. 

I did not fear him but when he looked at me 
in his cold sneering way I did not altogether feel 
6 


82 


“ Har Lampkins. 


at ease. I remembered hearing Uncle Eli say 
he was desperate when angry and that he had 
been known to horsewhip those who had dared 
to oppose his schemes, whether they were 
right or wrong, but I felt that if he tried to 
humiliate me in this matter, he would have 
more serious news to relate to his friends than 
he had had before. 

When the cock, the messenger of the com- 
ingdawn, warned with his shrill voice, the mid- 
night revelers that another day was bursting 
the chains of night, pale maidens and tired 
young men were not yet nestled snug and 
warm in their couches. Each of their hearts was 
beating with new-born joy or struggling with 
new difficulties that were the offspring of the 
night. 

Before I took my leave Miss Lucy called me 
to one side and said, “ Mr. Lampkins, I have a 
request to make of you." 

“ I will gladly listen," I replied. 

“ It is this ; please don’t you and Mr. Painter 
have any trouble ; promise me this ; please, 
won’t you ? ’’ 

She was looking at me with her burning 
eyes, with her sweet face upturned to me, and 
her voice slightly trembling. I could hear her 
heart beat with suspense, as she stood with 


George Painter’s Defeat. 83 

her hands clasped as if in prayer. I felt as if 
I could take her in my arms, crush her to my 
bosom, and call her my own, not only promis- 
ing to defend but I would defy gods and 
devils to take her from me. 

“Won’t you please promise?” she re- 
peated. 

“ I promise,” said I. “ Good-by.” 

Henry Johnson and myself went to Peters- 
ville’s Inn and slept in a cold bed in a cold room 
until the sun was well near the midday mark ; 
we arose and partook of the meal furnished 
us by our hospitable host. We ordered our 
rigs and Henry drove around for Miss Minnie 
Jones, while I went for his sister, both of them 
preferring to stay with their friends in prefer- 
ence to the Inn. 

Henry had scarcely turned the corner when 
I stepped out of the Inn into the street where 
my rig was' waiting me. 

George Painter stepped in front of me and 
carelessly brushed my hat from my head, and 
with an insolent air spit upon me. 

My blood was boiling in my veins, and I 
drew back to strike him when “ Won’t you 
promise, please ? ” rang in my ears, and with one 
mighty effort I caught the stroke, muffled my 
ftnger, picked up my hat and drove away, while 


84 “ Har Lampkins.” 

he and his companions hissed and sneered 
at me. 

As we drove back to Captain Johnson’s I told 
Miss Lucy of my love and how I adored her. 
I poured out my soul to her and begged her to 
tell me whether I might some time hope to 
win her when I was able to give her a home. 

“If I find that you love me, I will promise 
all that you ask,” she answered, “ but I do not 
expect daring deeds and perilous feats to test 
your devotion ; true manliness,” she continued, 
“ such as you have always shown in my pres- 
ence, will win true hearts quicker than all the 
heroic deeds upon record.” 

We then talked of those things that are dear 
to newly found hearts beating in unison, but 
would not interest those who might read this 
narrative. I did not tell her of the insult that 
I had received at the hands of Painter, as I did 
not want her to have the least anxiety in this 
direction. 

We arrived at Captain Johnson’s at three P. M., 
and I noticed that Miss Jones was blushing 
like a new-blown rose, when Henry assisted her 
to alight and walked up the walk beside her. 

When dinner was served and I took my leave, 
Henry walked part of the distance with me, 
and he told me that he was the accepted lover 


George Painter s Defeat. 85 

of Miss Minnie and that he was the happiest 
man alive. I congratulated him, but I did not 
tell him what had taken place in the buggy in 
front, as we drove home from Petersville. 

“ Lampkins,” said Henry, “you are the only 
one that will know this for some time, as Miss 
Minnie would not agree to let me mention 
this to Uncle Eli at present. 

“ I do not know what is her reason for it, 
but I am anxious to wait because she wants 
me to ! ” 

“Are you going to finish your course?” 
I asked. 

“ Oh, yes,” he answered. “ I only lack two 
months and then I am going to open up my 
office in town, and you shall study with me 
and board with us. Lampkins, I must re- 
turn,” continued Henry, “and take Minnie 
home ; I am a slave you see, but she is the 
sweetest master on earth.” 

“ I am glad that you are so happy, Henry, 
and I trust that your happiness will grow, as 
the years go by.” 

“ Yes, Lampkins, I have thought for a long 
time, but not until to-day did I know that 
she really cared for me. Now I have some- 
thing to live for that will inspire me to greater 
efforts in life/’ 


86 


“ Har Lampkins.” 


Here he held out his hand to me and said 
‘‘Good-by, Lampkins ; if you ever need a 
friend call on me,” and he turned and walked 
back towards his home while I, light-hearted 
and happy, turned myself in the opposite 
direction. 

I found Uncle Eli at home, reading his 
Bible and talking religion with Mother Jones, 
who was as much pleased to see me as my own 
mother could have been, and asked how I had 
enjoyed the dance, and inquired something 
about Miss Minnie. 

Phil came in and shook my hand and swore 
that I looked more like his “ ole Kurnel ” every 
day that I lived. 

“Yes, sir,” he continued, “ Eel, he acts like 
him too. Did you hear about him jest er 
knocken the socks off that hog speculator ? ” 

“What ? George Painter ? ” 

“ Yes, took the Captain’s darter away from 
him and all Petersville sassiety er lookin’ 
on.” 

“ And why shouldn’t he, Phil ; by gad, that’s 
the best girl in this neighborhood.” 

“ Yes, and Lampkins is je^t like my ole Kur- 
nel ; the best fighter in this here neighborhood 
and I am standin’ with him.” 

“ By gad^ Phil, ain’t I tole yer more’n once 


George Painter’s Defeat. 87 

that he could whip all the kurnels in yer ridge- 
ment; blast my hide if he can't.’' 

“ Look out, Eel, thar'snary a h — 1 if I’ll have 

my Kurnel thrown off on, and kin lick any ” 

Hold on, Phil, I’ve been er talking religion 
with Samantha ter-day and haven’t taken the 

sacrament but once, but d n my hide, if 

I had you and the ole Kurnel in the sink hole 
I could lick yer both.” 

“Yer kin get me thar mighty quick,” said 
Phil. 

Both sprung to their feet and started ; as 
Uncle Eli passed the old chest his flask setting 
on the top disappeared, and as Phil closed the 
door I heard him say, “ The ace of spades is 
gone out of this deck, Eel.” 


CHAPTER XIL 

A VISIT TO THE PERKINS HOMESTEAD. 

My school had opened up nicely after the 
holidays, and I was both happy and pleased. 
The students were fresh and vigorous and I 
had never seen so much interest manifested in 
tattered schoolbooks. Their faces were grow- 
ing very dear to me, and I tried to share and 
lighten their school-day troubles, for I had so 
recently left the log schoolhouse as a student 
that I was standing with one foot upon the 
same rough place and on the same cruel stones 
that were daily bruising their heels. 

No one can tell how dear a little mischiev- 
ous boy, with a freckle face and a sunburnt 
nose, can become to him, unless he shares his 
troubles or participates in his childish joys in 
everyday life in a log cabin called the country 
schoolhouse. 

At night when you fall asleep every freckle 
that is on his face is stamped upon your 
memory and his mischievous words tickle 
your imagination in your dreams. 

88 


A Visit to the Perkins Homestead. 89 

The little girl that came too with upturned 
face, while tears were dancing on the very 
verge of her innocent blue eyes, and tells you 
of her little trouble with her playmates ; before 
she is finished the playmate comes up and you 
take one upon each knee and put your arms 
gently around them, and soon the briny tears 
cease to flow and sunny smiles play upon their 
faces ; they swing down together and hand in 
hand run away to play, forgetting their sorrow 
in their sweet childish innocency, and you 
learn to love them with a feeling akin to that 
of a parent. Thus your school life is a reality 
by day and a dream by night. 

I was thoroughly interested in my school 
work, light-hearted and happy, because I knew 
that Lucy Johnson loved me; I felt that every 
one envied me and that I was the most fortu- 
nate man on earth, and yet I knew that I 
could not give her a home, such as she had. 

I resolved to study harder than I ever had 
before; I burned the midnight oil that I might 
be able to stand the examination which was 
to be held in June following, and at which 
time Henry would apply for his license. I 
rode over to Petersville once a week and Judge 
Fulton kindly gave me an examination along 
the line that he had mapped out for me. 


QO “ Har Lampkins.^ 

When I had finished one book he gave me an- 
other, which I carried home with me, and in 
this way I delved into the knotty problems 
of Blackstone, Greenleaf and Chitty, and such 
other text-books as my good friend would 
suggest. 

During this time I had thought over the 
situation of George Perkins and Jim Peters, 
and I determined that they should not be pros- 
ecuted any further if I could prevent it. 

Miss Lucy and I were out riding, and in 
passing by where George and Jim were propped 
up in their chairs, I suggested that we stop to 
see them. 

I saw that she was very much surprised, but 
readily consented to do so. 

We found them thin and pale, and I felt like 
I had come pretty close to committing the 
crime which had always held for me the greatest 
horror. I felt like going down on my knees 
and begging their pardon. We shook hands 
with them ; also with Mr. and Mrs. Perkins. 
His mother gave us seats and looked at me 
with her deep pale eyes that showed suffering 
and unrest. My heart was bleeding for that 
pale, thin mother, who looked so weak and thin 
that her heart-beats appeared strong enough 
to split her breast. George looked at me in a 


A Visit to the Perkins Homestead. 91 

pleading way that I could not resist, when he 
held out his thin, pale hand to me, as white as a 
girl’s and said, “ Mr. Lampkins, I want you to 
forgive us the wrong that we have done you. 
I cannot ask you not to prosecute us for we 
meant to kill you.” 

‘*No, George, I am not going to prosecute 
you. I stopped to see you and to tell you 
that you will not be prosecuted, and all that I 
ask of you and Jim is to come back to school 
and be men in the future.” 

Jim and George thanked me and I could see 
the tears glistening in George's eyes. Mrs. Per- 
kins was quietly sobbing, and the tears rolled 
down the time-wrinkled face of George’s father 
and his thin white hair shook from emotion. 
That moment was the happiest of my life : those 
who have never tried it, do not know the true 
happiness that there is in forgiving one who has 
injured you. There is a peace and quiet joy 
about it that only those who speak from ex- 
perience can tell. 

When we took our leave George insisted that 
we should come to see them often, saying that 
he felt better than he had since he had been 
sick. His mother begged us to promise to take 
dinner with them on the following Saturday 
which was cheerfully given. I felt like I was a 


92 Har Lampkins.^ 

better creature when I left, and as I walked 
down to the gate I knew that there was more 
happiness in the world than there had been be- 
fore I set foot in that little trodden path that 
led to where George and Jim were waving us 
good-by. 

As we rode back Lucy said to me : Mr. 
Lampkins, I am so glad that you forgave those 
boys that I feel like crying. I love you better 
than ever I did.” 

“ I deserve no credit for doing what is right,” 
I replied, “ but I am glad that I did it.” 

“ Mr. Lampkins, there is not another man in 
this country who would act as you did. I think 
that it was so good in you to make those peo- 
ple so happy. 

** I had determined to pursue this course some 
time ago,” I said. “ I am happy since the drive 
from town and I cannot think of other people 
suffering if I can prevent it.” 

“ And I am so happy, so proud that you have 
that true manly spirit of forgiveness and gentle- 
ness. I love the gentle and not the boisterous, 
for in them you find pure hearts and souls.” 

I rode home with Miss Lucy and took supper 
with them that evening. I thought that I could 
detect in the Captain a change, and he was not 
as friendly as usual. His melancholy spells 


A Visit to the Perkins Homestead. 93 

came on more frequently when I was with him 
of late than when I first met him. I could 
notice him studying my face carefully when he 
thought that I did not see him, and in some way 
each time it reminded me of my dream the first 
night that I met the Captain and his beautiful 
daughter, and how his angry black eyes shot 
forked darts’ of hatred at me. 

Where we sat we could hear the soft sweet 
strains of the violin as Henry’s soft fingers deli- 
cately touched the strings, while Lucy and I 
talked of the future, as though God had prom- 
ised long lives and happy days. The hands 
of my watch registered ten when I arose to go. 

I begged a kiss which, with blushing sweet- 
ness, was granted. When my lips touched the 
rosebud mouth in its juicy sweetness, my soul 
and thought was transplanted beyond the range 
of mortals, and stars rolled back from their 
paths ; the moon threw around it a wreath of 
golden kisses, of pure sunlight and it bathed 
itself in a pool of the pure honey dew, and re- 
turned spotless and innocent. I rode back to 
Uncle Eli’s and found he and Phil in a hot 
discussion ; before I reached the gate I could 
hear them, and I soon learned that it was about 
myself. 

Well! well! let it all go,” said Uncle Eli, 


94 “ Har Lampkins/' 

“if Lampkins don’t want to prosecute them it 
is all right.” 

“ He’s jest like my ole Kurnel,” said Phil, 
“ can’t stay mad at a man.” 

I entered the door while Uncle Eli was still 
smacking his lips, which he always did after tak- 
ing a drink. 

I greeted them kindly, said good night and 
went to bed a happy man. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE WILL. 

I SLEPT that night with a peaceful breast and 
dreamed of the happy and the good, and 
awoke in the morning to the twittering song of 
the first spring bird perched on a limb near my 
window, and'the crab-apple blossom, the sweet- 
est bloom on earth, with its soft, rich fragrance, 
filled my room with air laden with its odor. 
The dewdrops hung in crystals from the limbs, 
and the sun’s rays were shining through them, 
and they resembled diamonds hung from the 
sweet southern magnolia tree. The birds 
were holding a gay concert in the shade trees 
at the spring and the grass was fresh and sweet 
as the tender heart of a maiden unsullied by 
sin and purified by love. 

I did not move but lay as I was and looked 
and listened. 

I realized God in the bird’s song : I heard 
His praise sung in the soft tender grass ; felt 
Him in the fragrant air and saw Him in them 
all, 


95 


“ Har Lampkins. 


96 

As I lay the scene of yesterday at the Per- 
kins homestead returned to me, and I remem- 
bered how the sad look on their faces gave way 
to pleasant surprise, mingled with joy, when I 
told them that I did not come on a revengeful 
mission, but one of mercy. 

Mrs. Perkins’ face, though thin and sadder, 
strangely reminded me of my own mother’s, and 
the spot upon my cheeks, where her tears fell 
when I left home, was damp from my own. 

No heart is so tender as when saturated with 
love and filled with pity, mercy and forgive- 
ness. Forgive an injury and the humiliation 
is sweeter than any other revenge could be, 
though your victim were hung between the 
earth and the skies. 

You thus fill your own cup of bitterness to 
overflowing that would stain your soul and 
gnaw your vital strings of happiness. 

Forgive him and there is no heart so mean, 
and no soul so degraded that has not a tender 
chord that cannot thus be reached, and perhaps 
he will shed a tear so pure that sainted hands 
will stoop down and catch it, bear it away and 
transplant it into the river of life, where angels 
in their beauty can bathe their snowy pinions 
and leave them brilliant as crimson gold. 

I arose and dressed, ate my breakfast and 


The Will. 


97 


set out for school earlier than usual, so that I 
might revel in sweet day-dreams and enjoy the 
balmy breezes of the morning, as I thought of 
love and of Lucy. 

I went down by the spring and watched the 
fish gambol in the brook by the cliff where I 
had sat with her that Sunday afternoon, and 
enjoyed the pleasant hours that flew quickly 

by- 

I smiled at the towering mass of gray lime- 
stone with its mossy sides and thought of it 
as a thing of life. I plucked from its brink a 
green mossy sprig, and tied it with a thread of 
silken floss, and placed it in my day-book 
where my mother had written “ Remember, 
my son, words fitly spoken, are like apples of 
gold and pictures of silver.” 

I loved those cliffs, not only because I once 
rested upon their peaks beside her whom I 
loved, but they also reminded me of those that 
I climbed in my childhood days around my 
mountain home, and plucked violets and honey- 
suckles for the flowers, and sweet williams for 
their juicy bulbs. 

I walked on by the rickety old mill, through 
the woodland and across the fields to the 
schoolhouse, where the birds in the tree-tops 
above were blending their voices with the 

7 , - 


** Har LampkinsJ 


98 

merry school children in the yard below, as 
they shouted and laughed and sang in child- 
hood blessedness. Every chord was touched 
and every string of my soul (for souls are but 
the harps upon which angels play) vibrated the 
sweet music that they made. 

Saturday came, a perfect day and breezy ; 
now and then a small white cloud, like a flower, 
floated gracefully in the blue sky and the 
atmosphere was warm and tender. 

I mounted the nice young steed that Uncle 
Eli had delegated to my service and rode away 
towards the homestead of Captain Johnson. 
Lucy and I rode over to Mr. Perkins’ and 
found George and Jim very much improved, 
and our host and hostess looked happier than 
they did at our previous visit. 

Mrs. Perkins met us with a kind sad smile, 
but I could see her heart was lighter than 
usual. We talked pleasantly with Jim and 
George and the day wore on rapidly. We en- 
joyed a good, wholesome dinner, and in the 
afternoon Mr. Perkins took me out to see some 
fine specimens of silver ore which he had col- 
lected, but in reality they were nothing but 
limestone crystals. 

We came back by the spring that flowed out 

with great buoyancy over the white pebbles at 


The Will. 


99 

the bottom and drank from the gurgling foun- 
tain the cooling drops. Mrs. Perkins came for 
a bucket of water and began talking with us. 

“ Mr. Lampkins,” she said, I once knew 
your mother when we were girls.” 

“ I am happy to meet an old acquaintance 
of hers,” I answered, somewhat surprised. 

“ Yes, we were girls together, and cousins 
and dear* good friends, but I became angry 
with her one day over our sweethearts and we 
have never seen each other since. I have often 
tried to find her address but I never knew 
where she lived until I learned from George 
where you were from, and I knew that you 
were my cousin, and your mother was my 
playmate.” 

I was very much astonished, for I had never 
known my mother to have trouble with any 
one. 

“ I will write to mother and tell her that you 
are here.” 

“ Do,” said she, “ for it was all my fault, and 
tell her that I want her to forgive me.” 

I promised to do so, and she continued, 
“ We were the warmest friends until we had 
a dispute over your father and Captain John- 
son. 

“Captain Johnson,” 1 repeated. 

L.otC. 


100 


“ Har Lampkins. 


“Yes, he was your mother’s most ardent 
admirer and every one thought they would 
marry until she met your father.” 

Here she stopped abruptly and turned to go 
away when I begged her to tell me more about it. 

“ It is not a very long history,” she said. 
“ and you have been so kind to us, I will tell 
you all that I know about it. Your mother 
was a beautiful girl, with light wavy hair like 
yours, and was loved by every one because she 
was so gentle and good. Captain Johnson was 
a young, handsome and well-to-do farmer, and 
loved your mother as only a few women are 
loved ; she was kind to him, but did not en- 
courage him in his suit ; when she spoke of 
him, it was fashioned like a sister speaking of 
her brother; no one knew or understood why 
she did not fall rapidly and deeply in love with 
Walter Johnson, but they believed that she 
would, and settled her destiny as such, but she 
did not. No one ever doubted that he loved 
her, and I have heard that her picture hangs 
to this day in his parlor, with her long hair 
hanging loosely down her back. When your 
father came, an ideal physical man, and hand- 
some, there was a hot contest in which he car- 
ried off the prize. You know how proud and 
stubborn your grandfather was.” 


The Will. 


lOI 


I know nothing about him/' said I, ** except 
I have heard mother say that he was a lawyer 
by profession." 

“ He favored Walter Johnson's suit, and 
when she married your father in preference to 
his choice, he was very angry and disappointed. 
He sent for your father and mother one day, 
and when they came, thinking that he had for- 
given them for loving each other, he handed 
them one hundred dollars- in cash ; * This is 
your share ; do me the honor never to trouble 
me again.’ 

“Your father returned the money and told 
him that if he was not his wife’s father he 
would resent the insult in a different and more 
effective manner. 

“ They went away, and never spoke again to 
him, as your parents left this neighborhood 
and never returned. 

“Your grandfather adopted one of his dis- 
tant relatives and educated her, as he did your 
mother, his only child. After several years 
had passed Captain Johnson married the 
adopted daughter and they have lived happily 
together ever since. Your grandfather died 
and willed one half of all that he had to Mrs. 
Johnson, and the other he placed in the Peters- 
ville Bank, as your mother’s share if she re- 


102 


“ Har Lampkins.” 


turned and called for it in person ; if she did 
not it was to go to a distant relative. I sup- 
pose that most every one has forgotten the will 
by this time unless it is Captain Johnson. 
There was a provision in the will to the effect 
the money must remain in bank forty years 
after your grandfather’s death.” 

Can that will be produced?” I asked ex- 
citedly. 

‘‘ It can, as I have saved it, with the hope to 
reconcile your mother, whom I wronged when 
I spoke harshly about your father, but I could 
not find her, though I have tried hard to do so. 
I had come to the conclusion that she too had 
gone unto her father and that it was in vain to 
hope that I might be able to put her in posses- 
sion of what was rightly and justh^ hers. That 
is all, Mr. Lampkins,” she concluded, unless 
it be something that I can do to right the 
wrong.” 

She turned and dipped the bucket into the 
clear spring water, and as she did so a tear 
flowed down the brook and on to the sea. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


A DIFFICULTY WITH PAINTER. 

I COULD scarcely believe everything that I 
had heard and yet I had no right to doubt it. 
So many strange things were coming to light 
I was living in one continual surprise, and sur- 
prised at nothing that I heard, or saw, or 
thought. I had seen my mother’s picture 
hanging on the parlor of her rejected lover, 
with her hair hanging loosely, as described by 
Mrs. Perkins. 

I asked Lucy whose picture it was, and she 
said that it was “ a distant relative and a daugh- 
ter of her mother’s adopted father. She moved 
away,” she continued, “ and we have never 
heard from her.” 

I was still gazing at the picture, which was 
really a splendid piece of work and beauti- 
ful. 

“ Don’t you think that she is pretty ?” asked 
Lucy. 

She is, but you know I am partial to bru- 
nettes.” 

103 


104 


“ Har Lampkins/' 


** And I to the blondes/’ 

“ Who did this pretty cousin of yours 
marry ? ” 

** I have forgotten, but papa will remember, 
and I will ask him some time.” 

“ You must not do that.” 

^‘Why?” she asked somewhat surprised. 

“ I cannot explain why now, but I will tell 
you some time if you will promise to say noth- 
ing about this to him.” 

“ Have I not promised to do everything that 
you want me to ? ” She said this with her 
face upturned to me, as though she thought I 
doubted it. 

“I beg your pardon. Miss Lucy ; I ” 

“ Lucy now, please,” she broke in ; '‘I love 
for you to call me by name. Won’t you 
please ? ” 

I promised her that 1 would, and took my 
leave. 

I thought of all that had happened since I 
left home and trudged across the mountains in 
last December, scarcely five months since. I 
noted the changes that had occurred, and the 
difference between myself then and now. My 
heart, and thought, and life had changed in so 
short a time that it did not appear real. Some 
knotty problems presented themselves to me 


A Difficulty with Painter. 105 

for my solution. The Captain’s melancholy 
seasons were one of them ; they worried me, 
but why I could not tell. They were more 
frequent than usual. I had noticed that they 
invariably attacked him when I was with him, 
and each time that T saw him he was more 
sullen than before. 

The story about my grandfather’s will too 
was something that I could not understand. 
If the Captain was aware of it, and knew who 
I was, why did he not tell me ? If he did not 
know me in what way could my presence bring 
about this sullen mood? Turn it over in my 
mind as I would, I could not make anything 
like a reasonable satisfactory explanation to 
myself. There was one sensible course that I 
could at least follow. I must first secure the 
will and then find the witnesses, but what if 
they should be dead ? It had been years since 
it had been made and many Changes had come. 
I could only hope against hope that all was 
well. I rode over to the Perkins homestead 
the next day and asked Mrs. Perkins to let me 
see the will. She produced a bundle of papers 
and unwrapped them ; took from the center of 
it a writing yellow with age, but written in a 
bold business hand. I glanced quickly at the 
witnesses, and to my astonishment I found that 


io6 “ Har Lampkins/’ 

it was witnessed by Judge Fulton and Eliza- 
beth Taylor. 

“ Who is Elizabeth Taylor?" I asked. 

I am," she answered, “ that was my maiden 
name. He requested that I should witness the 
will and gave it to me for safe keeping. I have 
kept it ever since, and no one has known or 
even suspected it, except my first husband, who 
accidentally found it in looking for a lost 
deed." 

** Your first husband ? " 

*‘Yes, I have been married twice. My 
husband died when we had been married two 
years, and I lived with my uncle until a few 
years ago when I married Mr. Perkins." 

“ George is not your own child then ? " 

** He is not," she answered, and I was glad 
to learn it, for I loathed the thought of calling 
any one cousin with a treacherous heart and 
revengeful spirit, such as I believed he had. 

“You will let me keep this will, Mrs. Per- 
kins, will you not ? " 

“ I was requested to deliver this in person to 
your mother, but as you are her child I sup- 
pose that it would be right to let you have it." 

I thanked her and assured her that it would 
be. I went out on the porch and talked with 
George and Jim, and left them in good spirits, 


A Difficulty with Painter. 107 

talking and laughing with each other and en- 
joying the pleasant evening. 

When I was about half-way distant between 
the Perkins homestead and Uncle Eli’s I sat 
down at the root of an old elm tree and read 
the will over very carefully. Mrs. Perkins had 
stated the terms of the will and the way that 
my grandfather had disposed of his property 
very accurately. When I had finished reading 
it I placed it carefully away in my inside vest 
pocket and walked slowly towards home. 

As I turned a sharp corner in the road I came 
face to face with George Painter. He sprang 
quickly from his horse, that was panting, and 
lathered in foam, and blocked my way by step- 
ping squarely into the middle of the road. I 
attempted to pass him, and as I did»so he spit 
in my face and said to me: “You are a 
snivelling young coward.” 

He had his hand upon his revolver and I 
gripped mine, but as I did so I remembered 
the promise that I had made to have no trouble 
with Painter, and I hesitated. 

“ Was it not for a promise I have made, I 
would wipe the froth of a mad cur out of my 
face with his blood.” 

“ Men like you have no promises that are 
kept to except to lie and steal.” 


io8 


“Har Lampkins.’^ 


“ And you steal without any promise, and 
lie because you do not know how to speak the 
truth.” 

He made a motion as if to raise his whip, 
and said : “ I have horsewhipped more than a 
dozen scoundrels with this lash, and I am going 
to add another to the list.” 

“ Try it, and all the oaths and promises under 
Heaven won’t keep me from pumping your 
worthless carcass full of lead.” 

My revolver clicked as I pulled the hammer 
back, and placed my finger upon the trigger. 
He heard the click, turned pale and stepped 
back. 

“ You,” he said, “what have you got to try 
rival a gentleman, and aspire to the hand of a 
lady? ” 

This was spoken in an insolent tone and fn 
a sneering way. 

“ More than you,” I answered, “ a clean heart 
and manly principles.” 

Here two of his associates that were pres- 
ent when he knocked my hat from my head 
at the hotel galloped up, covered me with 
their revolvers and said : “ Give it to the d — d 
scoundrel, George,” but George did not, for 
Uncle Eli and Phil had silently appeared upon 
the scene. 


A Difficulty with Painter. 109 

Uncle Eli knocked one of the ruffians from 
his horse with the butt end of his gun and was 
looking over the sight at the other when he 
turned his head to learn the cause of his com- 
panion’s dismounting so abruptly. 

Drop that shooting iron, young ’un, or I’ll 
drap yer,” said Uncle Eli, pressing the trigger 
in an unpleasant and impressive way and the 
order was quickly obeyed. 

Phil was not idle, and by the time that Uncle 
Eli had his second man disarmed George 
Painter felt the blow from his fist at the butt 
of his ear, and fell headlong upon the ground. 
His revolver flew from his pocket and his hold 
relaxed upon his whip. I sprang and grabbed 
the pistol ; Phil caught up the whip and applied 
it to George Painter ; it circled through the 
air so gracefully and the strokes were so rapid 
and strong that I thought that he must have 
been an ox driver in his time. 

Painter howled like a hyena and begged for 
mercy. I heard Phil mutter between the 
strokes : “ By gad I feel more like my ole 

Kurnel than I ever did in my life.” He wanted 
to “lick,” as he said, “the hull of ’em,” but I 
suggested that we let them go. 

“ All right, Lampkins, but if I had known 
this sooner Painter would er get more, but 


no “ Har Lampkins.” 

you’re my Kurnel in this and I am jest obeying 
orders.” 

We disarmed them and told them to go and 
they were glad to have the chance. We turned 
and walked towards home. “ You see,” said 
Uncle Eli, “ I was going down to the Captain’s, 
I had jest got erlong ther side of ther little 
thicket this side ther house and I heard some 
one talking. I stopped and hearn ’em call yer 
name, and say, “ Painter, I don’t like Lamp- 
kins, and I would ruther that he would not see 
Lucy at all, but I can’t prevent it, for I think 
she loves him and if I tell her that she must 
not see him it will only add more difficulties to 
overcome.” . 

You can stop it. Captain, and you must, or 
I will lose all,” some one answered. 

“ I must try,” he answered, “ but can’t you 
do something to help yourself ? ” 

“ I can, and by Heaven I will. I will tell you 
what it is ; I believe you say he has gone down 
to Perkins.’ I will meet him on the road and 
horsewhip him ; that will intimidate him and 
lower him in Lucy’s estimation.” 

“ Don’t do that,” said the Captain ; ** from 
what I know of him he will be a hard man to 
handle, and I do not approve of this course.” 

I can handle him all right, as I have no 


A Difficulty with Painter. iii 

need to remind you that I have licked worse 
men than him until they howled like wolves.” 

The Captain objected but he swore that he 
would. I did not wait to hear any more but 
galloped home and got Phil and started — 
thought I could meet yer first and come back 
with yer but he rode faster than we thought, 
so we came up in good time.” 

“ By gad, I did lick that feller,” said Phil 
laughing. 

“ Yes, you did,” returned Uncle Eli, and on 
this we are going to take the sacrament, not 
straight drinks, Lampkins, as you know that I 
didn’t do any of ther fightin’ ; besides, he said 
in a lower tone, “ I promised mother this 
morning not to take any straight drinks, but if 
I could er licked that hog-driver like Phil did. 
I’d a taken a straight in every fence corner 
’twixt here, and home, by the eternal Devil, I 
would.” 

He produced his flask and said the same 
toast that he did when I had my first fight 
with Perkins. 

I told him that I had been to church a good 
many times, but he took the biggest sacrament 
that I had ever seen. 

“ Yes, Lampkins, that was larger than I 
jinerally take ; when we do some good fightin’ 


II2 


“ Har Lampkins. 


I love the Lord more. By — Moses and Aaron, 
if I didn’t belong ter ther church, how I could 
cuss this evening.” 

When we reached home the sun was sinking 
low behind the hills; Mother Jones was busy 
about the supper table, around which we soon 
gathered and I ate heartily of the good things 
that she knew so well how to prepare. 

Uncle Eli returned thanks and especially 
asked that Phil might be blessed, and finished 
by begging the Almighty to impress upon the 
people the importance of taking the sacra- 
ment. 

We had finished supper and I had gone down 
to the gate and sat down upon the stile to enjoy 
the twilight when Henry and Minnie rode up ; 
she handed me a letter and left Henry and I 
together. 

“ Read your letter,” said Henry, ‘‘ and then 
I have news for you.” I tore the letter open 
and saw that it was from Lucy ; she told me 
about George Painter’s visit to her home that 
evening; that he talked violently and made 
threats when she told him she cared for me; after 
this he had held a consultation with her father 
and dashed away at a fast gallop. The Captain, 
she said, had been in a very restless mood 
since he left ; she reminded me of my promise 


A Difficulty with Painter. 113 

to have no trouble with Painter and added ** I 
know that you will not break it.” 

I shuddered to think how near I came to 
breaking it and was glad that I did not. 

“ Now, Henry,” said I, “ I am ready to listen 
to anything that you want to say.” 

“ It is this, Lampkins : Minnie was telling me 
about Lucy having you promise her to avoid 
all trouble with Painter. I want you to be 
released from that promise, for you don’t know 
the kind of a man that he is. You will have 
to break your word or be disgraced by his 
insults.” 

“ I know more about him than you think 
I do.” 

‘‘ What ! Have you had an encounter with 
him already ? ” 

“Yes,” I answered, “and if Uncle Eli and 
Phil had not come to my rescue some one 
would have been killed.” 

I then told him all about meeting Painter 
and how he fared in the little game that he 
proposed to play. His dark eyes glistened 
with anger. He arose and bade me good-by 
and said, “ Lampkins, if you ever need a friend 
remember that you have one in me that is no 
coward.” 

8 


CHAPTER XV. 

DIXIE AND YANKEE DOODLE. 

The news spread rapidly and flew across the 
country on human wings that George Painter, 
the handsome and wealthy hog speculator, had 
received a severe horsewhipping while attempt- 
ing to flog a country school-teacher, who was 
his rival. His friends were very angry, but I 
found that they were not so many as I ex- 
pected, as there were quite a number on my 
side ; things were growing ugly and began to 
have the appearance of a storm-burst. The 
nearer it came the happier Uncle Eli was. He 
would go about the place whistling “ Dixie ” 
in high spirits. Phil seized his old violin and 
applied the rosin to his bow and mingled 
with Dixie’s soul-stirring notes those of Yankee 
Doodle. 

“ It’s bound ter come, Phil,” I heard Uncle 
Eli say, “ and I want yer ter do yer best. 
Fight like yer did when yer licked six of 
ther Hensleys and four of ther Simpsons.” 

“ I’m jest er spilin’ fer it ter come.” 

114 


Dixie and Yankee Doodle. 115 

“ jtain Johnson will be in it, I understand, 
but Henry will be on our side for he is Lamp- 
kins’ warmest friend ; say, Phil,” he con- 
tinued. “ I’ll bet ’e’ll fight like er cinnamon 
b’ar.” 

“ And so will Henry.” 

I did not like to hear them talking in this 
way, for it had the ring of fight in it, and I 
had had enough of that kind of work and I 
knew that they meant what they said. I also 
knew that a fight of this kind could not blow 
over without bloodshed if it came to an en- 
gagement. This was a week after I had met 
George Painter in the road. I had seen Lucy 
but once and she told me that her father was 
very much opposed to my visiting their home. 
“He favors,” she continued, “Mr. Painter, 
whom I detest to almost despising him, since 
I learned of his conduct the evening that he 
left our home.” 

“ I will not come to your home if your father 
objects, but you will see me anyway, won’t 
you?” 

“ Of course I will see you, for I could not 
think of living without that, but where and 
when I cannot tell.” 

I told her of Henry’s wish that I might be 

released from my promise that I gave ber^ 


ii6 Har Lampkins.” 

Yes,” she answered after a moment’s study, 
“ he also spoke to me about it, but please 
don’t ask me to release you, for fighting is 
horrible, but I will modify it. Avoid him 
all you can, but if he attempts to strike you, 
then defend yourself.” 

“ But there are some things that it is al- 
most impossible to keep from resenting.” 

“ What are they ? ” 

‘‘ He spit in my face when I attempted 
to pass him in the road, and had it not been 
for the promise, it would have gone hard 
with him.” 

I am so glad that you kept it,” she mur- 
mured, but I could see that her dark eyes 
flashed with indignation and her breast heaved 
with emotion. 

She promised to write to me as often as 
she had an opportunity, and I left feeling 
happier ; not that there were difficulties to 
overcome, but that I had some one with whom 
I could consult and who would aid me in the 
most difficult places. Difficulties when over- 
come are the sweetest part of life, and to 
engage a foe, wage a battle and conquer for 
one you love, is almost joy supreme. 

No foe is formidable when inspired by 
}oye and enthused with ambition, such as was 


Dixie and Yankee Doodle. 117 

mine in this battle for life and love. I real- 
ized that I must change my tactics and meet 
the obstinacy of her father with cunning, and 
avoid and outwit the defeated and desperate 
lover in his intended fight, that I might keep 
my promise and retain the esteem in which I 
believed Lucy held me. Days went slowly by. 
Occasionally I heard from Lucy but I did not 
see her, for she wrote that her father had 
positively forbidden her to see me and that we 
must try to win him over in some way. She 
closed her letter with : “ Time alone can tell 
what the future holds for us, and if papa does 
not relent, at least allow me to see you soon, 
I am afraid that my firmness will give away, 
and I will defy even him to forbid me my 
sweetest pleasure, to see you again, my 
love.” 

I read this with bated breath and pressed 
the little message to my beating heart. That 
Lucy loved me I had no doubt, but the future 
looked dark and gloomy. I tried in vain to 
tear away the veil that hides the future and to 
peer down its dim vista aisles. I would have 
given all that I possessed — almost my life — to 
have seen and known how the drama would 
end. Would I win or would I lose? Would 
my fondest thoughts be dashed to pieces, or 


ii8 


“ Har Lampkins.” 


would my most sanguine hopes grow and bloom 
into reality? Would the ambitions of my 
youth crown my old age with success, or would 
my hoary hairs point backward to a barren 
and wasted life? 

I drew upon my imagination and found 
myself an old man with gray hairs and stooped 
shoulders, sitting around a light chip fire in a 
mountain hut, poor, ragged and deserted, and a 
tear stole down my cheek at Fate’s cruel fancy 
thus pictured. I shook them from my eyes 
and repeated the true words of Owen Mer- 
edith in his beautiful Lucile : Our deeds are 
our own dooms-men.” 

That odds were against me it was very plain, 
those who compared me with my rival, hand- 
some and wealthy, and worshiped by the 
eight-by-ten Petersville aristocracy and the 
snivelingyoungdudesto be found in ever}’- coun- 
try town. But I believed then, as I do now, that 
success depended upon my own efforts and 
that man’s possibilities are limited by the lines 
drawn by the hand of God, and reserved for 
His own architecture. 

My school had closed and I was walking 
leisurely back to Uncle Eli’s, thinking of the 
many things that had happened since I came 
into the neighborhood, I turned to the right, 


Dixie and Yankee Doodle. 119 

from my usual path home, and wended my 
way down the path towards the cliff where I 
had sat with Lucy the first afternoon that we 
had spent together. It had been one month 
since I had seen her, and her father was as stub- 
born in his demands as he had been at first. I 
did not know when I would see her again, 
but see her I would, I vowed to myself, as I 
reached the outer edge of the small clump of 
sassafras bushes on the same rise with the 
cliff, and about fifty feet away, I heard some 
one say : “ Good evening, my little runaway.” 
I hurried up to where I could see the cliff. 
Seated upon the same place where we had 
sat I saw Lucy and a few feet away was George 
Painter with his hat in his hand and an inso- 
lent smile upon his face. 

The young lady sprang to her feet and 
started to leave when he said something to her 
that I did not hear, but he stepped quietly in 
front of her and said : “ Keep quiet, little one, 
we are all alone, and I have a few things that 
I want to say to you.” 

“ I don’t want to hear anything that you 
may have to say.” 

“ Lucy, you won’t see me at home, and now 
we are here alone you shall hear me.” 

‘‘If you know that I detest you, why do you 


120 Har Lampkins/' 

impose upon me in this manner ? No gentle- 
man would do it.” 

*‘You would listen to me once before that 
sniveling coward came ” 

“Stop,” she cried, “you shall not speak of 
him to me in that manner.” 

“ Listen to me,” he said, “ for God’s sake, 
listen. I love you, and your father ” 

“ My father has nothing to do with 
it.” 

“ Let me finish, and do not interrupt me or 
I will do something desperate. We are alone ; 
I saw you when you left home and I followed 
you here, and now you shall hear me. I love 
you, and I have taken an oath, if you refuse 
me, to kill Lampkins on sight. I swear that no 
other man shall ever claim you as his wife 
while I live. I would kill him. Tell me that 
you will be mine and I will begin life anew. 
Live for you and love you as never was woman 
loved. Refuse me and I will hunt that hound 
and shoot him as I would a dog.” 

“ Shoot him now,” I said, and at the same 
time looking over the barrel of a six-shooter 
at his gleaming devilish eyes. 

Lucy sprang to my side with a cry of joy. 
He threw up his hands and begged me not to 
shoot him. I put my gun back into my pocket, 


Dixie and Yankee Doodle. 121 

and he immediately assumed his cool insolent 
manner. 

“ You are not wanted here/' he said to me, 
“ as Miss Lucy has me to escort her home.” 

I am here though, and have been for the 
same length of time that you have.” 

“You have been eavesdropping? ” he de- 
manded. 

“ I heard all that you said.” 

“ No gentleman would listen to a conversa- 
tion not intended for him.” 

“ And no gentleman would impose upon a 
lady a conversation distasteful to her as you 
did.” 

“ Lampkins, you are a sniveling coward and 
a cur,” he said, growing. red to the roots of his 
hair. “ I have taken an oath to kill you, and 
why I don’t do it now, I cannot tell.” 

“ A coward never keeps his oath.” 

“No man on earth has ever called me that 
before, and you will regret it.” 

“ I have never regretted speaking the truth.” 

He quickly drew his revolver and fired it 
and a lock fell from above my left ear, and a 
breeze lodged it among Lucy’s curls. 

“You are free,” she said. 

I sprang forward, and caught the gun as it 
fired the second time in the air. He was dis- 


122 


‘‘ Har Lampkins. 


armed. He struck me a stunning blow over 
the eye that staggered me back to where Miss 
Lucy stood. I dropped the gun and prepared 
for his attack. I warded off his blow and struck 
him between the eyes with my fist and he went 
rolling down the hill. He came again the 
second, third and fourth time, and met with the 
same result ; the last time he arose with a stone 
in each hand. 

“ Drop those rocks,” I said, as I covered him 
with his own revolver, and he did so. 

“ I will kill you for this,” he hissed. I would 
do it now if I had my gun.” 

“ There it is,” I said, throwing his gun at 
him, which sent him rolling on the grass for 
the fifth time. He got up and ran like a 
whipped cur and we were left together. He 
was scarcely out of sight when Henry came up 
and shook my hand and said to me : “ Lamp- 
kins, that was well done. Painter must never 
enter our house again, and I will tell him so to- 
morrow.” 

“ I am glad that you saw a part of it, Henry.” 

** I heard and saw it all, but I wanted to let 
him prove himself the cur that he is, and had 
he hit you, Lampkins, when he fired at you, I 
would have pulled the trigger I had leveled 
upon him when you disarmed the coward.” 


Dixie and Yankee Doodle. 123 

Here he shook my hand and continued, Min- 
nie is waiting for me at the brook ; I must go. 
I will tell the Captain about this evening’s per- 
formance and I feel sure that he will see Paint- 
er as he is. I am your friend, Lampkins, and 
will stand by you through it all.” He pressed 
my hand and w'alked away. 

“ I am so glad, Mr. Lampkins, that you came 
up,” said Lucy. 

** And so am 1.” 

I wanted to see you so much that I thought 
to see the same place would do my heart some 
good. I came here and was thinking of you 
when he came up, and you know what followed. 
We sat and talked for a long while and then 
arose to go. 

** Can I go home with you ? ” 

“ If you please, Mr. Lampkins.” 

But will not your father object.” 

** Not when he knows the circumstances. I 
think he will be pleased. At any rate you must 
go with me. I think that papa will .see what 
a scoundrel he really is, and withdraw his ob- 
jections to you.” 

“ Has your father told you what his objec- 
tions were to me ? ” 

“ He has none ; he speaks of you as being a 
nice young man, but, always adds that there 


124 


‘‘ Har Lampkins." 


are some things that I do not understand why 
I should not think of you as my lover, but 
what they are I do not know.” 

** Neither do I, unless it is because I love 
you.” 

“ And I love you, and if possible I love you 
better since he has been so opposed to it.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE CIRCUIT RIDER. 

** Hello ! ” exclaimed Uncle Eli, as I came 
up. “ Seem ter be purty happy, from yer 
whistle.” 

“ I am not at all miserable.” 

“ Didn’t know but that yer nerve was up a 
leetle.” 

“ Why so ? ” 

** Henry Johnson was er tellin’ me that yer 
walloped Painter agin this evening. I hearn 
also that the Captain was dead agin yer with 
the gal.” 

“ Oh, that’s nothing ; the girl does not ob- 
ject.” 

That’s right ; that’s right. Ruther have 
ther ole folks ergin me every time. Girl stick 
closer ter ye. It’s er fack ; she will.” 

• “ I hope so in this case anyway.” 

The Circuit Rider rode up and said : “ Believe 
I’ll git down and stay all night with yer. 
Brother Jones.” 

“ Yes, git right down and make yerself at 
home, Brother Davis.” 


125 


126 


“ Har Lampkins.^' 


“Thank you, Brother Jones. I am always 
glad to be with yer. How is Sister Jones and 
Sister Minnie ? ” 

“Fust-rate, fust-rate. Here is some of the 
best corn licker in this country. Won't yer 
have er toddy. Brother Davis ? ” 

“No, I thank you. Brother Jones, I don’t 
drink.” 

“ Take ther sacrament with me, won’t yer, 
Brother Davis ? ” said U ncle Eli, winking at me. 

“ No, no. Brother Jones, you must excuse me ; 
I don’t drink at all.” 

“ Well, I do,” and he poured out a small 
quantity in a glass and drank it, smacked his 
lips together and said : “ Better take some best 
thing on the top side of yearth for a snake 
bite.” 

“ Very good in its place.” 

“Yer bet yer life it is ; I dearly love ter take 
ther sacrament, don’t you ? Go out to supper. 
Brother Davis. Yer know ther way ; I want 
ter see Lampkins about er leetle business. 
Lampkins,” continued Uncle Eli when the 
preacher was out of hearing, “ that preacher is 
er rascal, and I’ll prove it ter yer. I’ll leave ole 
Bets sitting right here by this tree ; and tell 
him erbout it in er confidential way. You be 
out here yer can see bout nine o’clock ter-night,” 


The Circuit Rider. 127 

I promised to do so and went to supper. A 
few minutes before nine I took my post as 
watchman on Old Bets ” and in a few minutes 
I saw the preacher coming. He made straight 
for the bottle, pulled' the cork and gave the 
bottle a tilt and walked rapidly back to the 
house. When I went in he and Mother Jones 
were discussing the evils of corn licker. Uncle 
Eli winked at me and broke in with “ I don’t 
keer what yer say I am goin’ to have corn licker 
in my house as long as I live, by the eternal 
Devil I will.” 

“ I am ershamed of yer, Eli,” said Mother 
Jones. 

“ Ershamed and be d d. Beg pardon, 

Brother Davis, but it’s er fact, it’s ther best 
thing on yearth for er snake bite.” 

“ Mother, don’t cry,” said Uncle Eli, placing 
his hands on her head and kissing her, “ I will 
not swear any more while the preacher is here, 

by ; there, I won’t. Remember them 

rattlers don’t yer, Samantha ? ” 

“ My ole Kurnel always kept it,” said Phil, 
who had no special love for Brother Davis, “ and 
I can lick any man that says anything ergin 
him, by gad, I kin.” 

“ Let it all go, Phil, and let’s not argy with 

Samantha and the preacher,” 


128 “ Har Lampkins.” 

** All right, Eel. Mother is the best woman 
on the top side of yearth and I am with her.” 

** And so am I, Phil, with her and the preacher 
through and through.” 

The next day I rode over to Petersville and 
found Judge Fulton alone in his office. 

“ Take a seat, Lampkins. I am glad that 
you came over to-day. I have been thinking,” 
he continued, “ about taking some intelligent 
young man into my office. I desire Lampkins 
to make you an offer when your school is out.” 

My school is out, and I ” 

“ Wait now, my boy, until I have finished. I 
want you to help me do writing and so forth 
and study with me, and by the September term 
of the Circuit Court you can get your license 
to practise and then you can do more work. 
You can board with us and I will give you one- 
sixth interest in my business. Come, what do 
you say ? ” 

“Judge, your offer is too liberal, but I will 
stay with you if you will make one change.” 

“ What is it ? ” he asked, somewhat surprised. 

“ I want to stay and study in your office, 
but I cannot take any of your income, as I 
am not entitled to it.” 

“ I insist that you shall.” 

“ I can’t stay with you then/’ 


The Circuit Rider. 


129 


'• Lampkins, reconsider this matter, and act 
wisely. Take what I offer you, for you will 
earn it." 

“ I feel very much flattered, Judge, but my 
mind is made up." 

“ Let it be as you say then. When can you 
come ? " 

Monday," I answered. 

“ Very well." 

“ Now that we have settled that matter I 
want to submit something to you, and ask 
your opinion. Judge, but it is necessary that no 
one but us should know about it." 

“ Saying nothing is a part of my success." 

I took the will from my pocket and asked 
him to look at it. 

He hurriedly glanced at it and then over his 
glasses at me, looked at the signatures and 
at the date again and laid the will on the table. 

‘‘ What do you think of it ? " I asked. 

In answer to my question he unlocked a 
large safe ; took from its vaults an old ledger, 
placed it open before me. 

“ Look at that," pointing to an entry dated 
March 31st, 1852. “ Charging the drawing of 

a will for my grandfather, with a fee. The 
two dates correspond ; see," holding up the 
will. 


“ Har Lampkins.’* 


130 

** Yes,” I answered, “the will is dated March 
31st, 1852, and you think that the will is 
genuine? ” 

“ Certainly, my boy, certainly, and it is worth 
twenty thousand dollars with interest, which 
amounts to,” said he, making figures on the 
paper, “ $36,000.00, interest, making $56,000.00 
in all. Quite a neat little sum, Lampkins, 
quite so.” 

“ Is the bank worth that amount?” 

“Many times more, sir. Your mother is a 
wealthy woman. I knew her up to her mar- 
riage, but I lost sight of her afterwards. Her 
father was my law partner for a number of 
years, and you are his grandson,” and the old 
Judge shook my hand warmly. “Walk with 
me over to the bank and I will introduce you 
to the President and Cashier, and we will 
speak to them about this matter.” 

“No, I do not want to speak to them about 
the will, but I would like to meet them.” 

“ I will speak to them for you.” 

“ But I object.” 

“ Why so ? ” 

“ I don’t want them or any one to know 
about this for a while.” 

“ But it is proper that it be looked after at 

01)9^1 and I won’t let yoq do a foolish thing 


The Circuit Rider. 


131 

that will hazard your welfare and that of your 
mother’s. I will speak to them.” This last 
was said as he arose and picked up his hat and 
cane. 

“Hold on, Judge, remember your promise 
to say nothing.” 

“Yes, but you don’t mean to hold me to 
that?” 

“ Certainly,” I said, folding up the will and 
placing it in my pocket. “ I will go with you 
now and you can introduce me as your law 
student.” 

“ I think that you are doing wrong, my dear 
boy. Won’t you reconsider this, and let me 
speak to the officers of the bank ? ” 

“ Not now,” I answered as we entered the 
door of the bank. 

The introduction to the bankers as Judge 
Fulton’s law student admitted me to the best 
society in the place, and I received quite a 
number of invitations to attend dances, socials, 
picnics and little informal gatherings in that 
little out-of-the-way town. I attended a part 
of them, sometimes alone and sometimes in 
company with Miss Fulton. 

When Painter was present he never spoke, 
and I did not pay the slightest attention to 
him. The spring ripened into summer and 


132 


‘‘ Har Lampkins. 


with it came the examination. Henry and 
I were reviewing the first books that we had 
read and were asking each other questions such 
as we thought would probably be asked us on 
examination. 

“ Well,” said Judge Fulton as he came into 
the office and sat down in his comfortable 
office chair, “ are you going to accept my pro- 
position and become my partner? 

Oh, you will get your license all right, I 
will warrant, and we must settle this, Lamp- 
kins.” 

“ Give me a week to think it over. Judge, 
and at that time I will answer you.” 

“ All right, my son, all right. I like a cool- 
headed fellow, but remember that I must 
have a definite answer one week from to- 
day.” 

I submitted the proposition to Henry and 
asked him what he thought about it. 

“ I think that it is a splendid offer, but I had 
thought that we might form a partnership and 
that we could live on what we have until the 
practise came.” 

“ Live upon what you have, for I haven’t 
anything.” 

“ It’s all the same, Lampkins , what is mind 
belongs to my friends,” 


The Circuit Rider. 133 

One week from the time this conversation 
took place I was sitting in the office of Judge 
Fulton reading the certificate granting me li- 
cense to practise law. My heart was light and 
I was deeply interested in my own thoughts. 
I did not hear Judge Fulton enter. 

“ Got them did you, Lampkins?” 

I gave a little jump as he broke in so abrupt- 
ly upon my reverie. “ Here,” he continued, 
throwing some letters down on his desk, “ is 
something I think that will make your heart 
beat faster than anything that those judges 
said. That was the way it did me, Lampkins, 
when I was about your age.” 

I broke the seal hurriedly and read as fol- 
lows : 

“ Dear Harry : 

I am both happy and sad this morning. 
Henry tells me that you made the best exam- 
ination out of the entire class of ten who were 
examined. I am glad and congratulate you, 
but there is something that pains me very 
much, connected with your stay in Petersville. 
I have a letter that will explain itself which I 
enclose. I cannot believe and cannot think 
of doubting one I believe so noble and true as 
you are, but if it is (Here a tear blot* 


Har Lampkins.’* 


134 

ted out the word.) “ Can’t you come to Uncle 
Eli’s Sunday and I will meet you there. 

“ Lovingly, yours, 

“ Lucy.” 

I took up the letter that she enclosed and 
read : 

“ Dear Miss Johnson : 

“ I am your friend and trust that you will 
pardon the liberty that I take in addressing 
you. It is a delicate subject about which I 
wish to speak, and I sincerely hope that you 
will receive what I have to say with the same 
spirit of friendship with which it is written. 
Thrice have I attempted to inform you, as 
many times have I failed to do so, but being 
your warmest friend, I have at last overcome 
my prejudice and I feel sure that you will 
appreciate my position. It is about this that 
I wish to write. I am informed, in fact I have 
heard Mr. Lampkins say so, that he was your 
sweetheart, and that you were to be married 
at an early date. Whether this be true or not 
I do not know, for I believe he is of a low 
family and treacherous enough for a Judas. 
You are aware that he is in the law office of 
Judge Fulton and has worked himself into his 


The Circuit Rider. 135 

good graces, and has won the heart of his 
daughter, whom he is to marry soon. She does 
not deny it and everything is hustle and push 
around the Judge’s preparing for the wedding. 
What rascally schemes he has used in making 
the Judge think that he has plenty of money 
I do not know, but that he has is a fact. I 
heard my father say that Judge Fulton made 
the remark that Lampkins was not so poor as 
people thought he was, and now, my dear friend, 
I trust that the truth of this statement may 
serve you and that you will see the precipice 
before it is too late, and that at least some 
day know that I am, 

“Your true friend.” 

My hand trembled so that you could plainly 
see it when I had finished reading this daring 
and brazen lie, while Lucy Johnson was look- 
ing through her tears at my mother’s picture 
and indulging in a good cry. 

I tore open another letter and to my surprise 
I found it to be from Miss Lucy also, telling 
me that she had heard of my engagement to 
Miss Fulton and that I had deceived her and 
that our relations must cease. She also re- 
quested me to send her letters home, and I 
would forthwith receive mine. 


“ Har Lampkins. 


136 

I was indignant and swore vengeance against 
the wretch who had thus stepped between my 
love and I, and stole from me my happiness. 
That the letter was from Lucy I had no doubt, 
but why she wrote two in the same mail I could 
not tell. 

“ Lampkins,’* said the Judge, “ have you re- 
ceived serious news that you are so worked 
up ? ” 

Not very,” I answered, trying to appear 
calm, but he was not so easily deceived. 

“ Come, my son, tell me all about it ; possibly 
I can aid you.” 

“ Oh, it’s nothing that will interest you, on 
the contrary I fear that it might worry you.” 

“ Is it over pretty Lucy Johnson ? ” he asked. 

“ Partly.” 

“ And the rest ? ” 

“You may read these letters and find out as 
much as I know.” 

I handed him the letters and watched him 
closely while he read them. 

“ Well, what of it ? ” said he, laying the letters 
aside. 

“ Some one has been lying, that is all.” 

“ And can’t you guess who it is ? ” 

“ I don’t know that I can.” 

“ Shall I tell you ? ” 


The Circuit Rider. 


137 


** I would like very much to know.” 

“ This young lady had a sweetheart before 
you knew her.” 

‘^Yes?” 

“ And you proved* best man with the girl, 
and had a racket with your rival? ” 

I nodded. 

“ He then tried to deter the girl in the con- 
fession of love and an engagement. You ap- 
peared and another fight occurred.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Now he has changed his tactics and is mak- 
ing a different fight — understand ? ” 

“ That does look simple, but who in the 
world wrote the other letter? ” If Painter wrote 
this to Miss Lucy ? ” 

“ Quite as simple as the other ; her father 
favors Painter’s suit.” 

“Yes, but the young lady detests him.” 

“ She does? ” 

“ Her fath&r knows that he has lost unless 
something comes between yourself and his 
daughter. Miss Lucy wrote one of those 
letters.” 

“ Now can you guess who wrote this one ? ” 
holding up the one that I had last opened.” 

The writing is the same, I think.” 

“ They are similar, I admit, but they are not 


‘‘ Har Lampkins.” 


138 

the same. The L’s are different and so are the 
H’s and Ts and P’s.” 

“ Who did write it if Miss Lucy did not ? ” 

“ Her mother,” he answered, “ and so, my son^ 
don’t let this worry you. You can have my 
horse to-morrow and ride over to Uncle Eli’s, 
where you will see pretty Lucy Johnson and 
settle this trouble, and be as happy as you both 
deserve.” 

“ I thank you. Judge, you have done *’ 

Never mind what I have done ; there will 
be more to do for you before this affair is over. 
You may want my horse to go to Bristol. I 
had to steal my wife while her father gently 
protested in his sleep, and at any time that you 
need my horse and buggy, it is at your com- 
mand. So now take a walk and come back here 
two hours from now and we will talk over our 
business relations. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

AT UNCLE ELl’S. 

“Hello, Lampkins,” shouted Uncle Eli as 
I rode up to the fence. “ Jest er thinkin' 
erbout yer, and mother allowed that you’d come 
over ter-day. Go right in. Mother will be 
pleased ter see yer. Talks erbout yer like you 
were her own son.” 

Mother Jones met meat the door and kissed 
me affectionately, and I must own that I was 
touched with the kindness of these good peo- 
ple since I had been among them. It reminded 
me of home, and my heart was so full that a 
tear glistened in my eye. 

Phil dropped his fiddle right in the middle 
of Yankee Doodle; shook my hand, slapped 
' my shoulder and said : “ Blame my skin. Eel, 
he^s more like my ole Kurnel every day ; cry 
because a feller likes him.” 

“There comes the gals, and Henry,” said 
Uncle Eli, and I went down to the gate and 
met them. 

We sat down in the shade in the yard, talked 

139 


140 


“ Har Lampkins. 


and rested, and in the afternoon we went up 
on the cliff where we had been the first Sunday 
evening I had spent at Uncle Eli’s. I showed 
Lucy the notes that I had received (while we 
were sitting on the peak at the root of a sugar 
maple, the very spot where Painter had last 
approached her). 

I explained them very much in the same 
manner that Judge Fulton did. 

“ Oh, I see ; please forgive me,” she said, 
placing her arms around my neck and hiding 
her head upon my shoulder. I raised her head 
and kissed her, and she smiled through her 
tears that wet her long dark eyelashes. 

“An angel never sins,” I said, “but are as 
pure as those tears.” 

“ Oh, Harry, I am so happy, when I am 
with you,” she said, nestling closer to me. 

“ Don’t you always want to be with me, and 
then no letters nor misunderstandings will 
come ? ” 

“ Yes,” she answered, “ you know that I do.” 

“ But you won’t without your father’s con- 
sent, and that we will never have.” 

“ I am afraid not, as 1 have tried hard to re- 
concile him, and until now I have always put 
you off, but I cannot ask you to wait longer, 
if he don’t consent,” 


At Uncle Eli's. 


141 

“You know my circumstances, Lucy, and it 
may be hard sailing at first, but " 

“ Don’t," she broke in, “ I will be happy 
with you anywhere, and we will earn a living 
together." 

Henry and Miss Minnie had gone down from 
the cliff and were throwing stones into the 
water and watching the ripples that they made, 
a perfect picture of happiness. Henry had 
told me that they were to be married on the 
Wednesday following, and that I was to be 
there." 

He said, “ I will be in town Tuesday and 
you must come back with me that even- 
ing." 

I promised him that I would, and he and 
his sister rode away. 

Sunday morning Miss Minnie and I rode 
down to the schoolhouse where the Circuit 
Rider had been holding a protracted meeting ; 
it was also quarterly meeting, and the preacher 
preached in the grove, as the house was too 
small to accommodate one-fourth of the con- 
gregation. Brother Jones was there and 
shouted with a good number of the sisters, and 
one or two good brethren. Sinners were 
gathered into the fold and many more were at 
the altar. There were tears shed and hands- 


“ Har Lampkins.’^ 


142 

shaking even at the outskirts of the congrega- 
tion. Uncle Eli was there and was one among 
the first to go forward and take the sacrament, 
and when he arose he wiped a tear away from 
his eye with his rough hand. My friend Phil 
had Captain Johnson cornered off and was ar- 
guing with him about fast horses, and swearing 
that his “ole Kurnel ” rode the fleetest mare 
on top side of yearth, and that he could lick 
any man that said that he did not." 

“Yes," replied the Captain, “to hear you 
talk one would think that your Colonel was 
your God, and fighting your religion." 

“ Look out, Captain, Pd as soon lick yer as 
not anyway." ^ 

“ What for, Phil ? " 

“ The way that you have treated Lampkins." 

“ Is that any business of yours ? " 

“Yes, by gad it is." 

“ You fotched him to us and then got mad 
at him for nothing." 

“ I thought that he was a gentleman, 
but " 

“Stop, Captain! By thunder, don't finish 
that or I will civilly be d — d if we don't mix, 
sure as gun's iron." 

“ Phil, I thought that we were good friends." 

** We air, but I will fight as quick over Lamp- 


At Uncle Eli's. 


143 

kins as my ole Kurnel, and you know how 
quick that is." 

The Captain was no coward, but he knew that 
Phil meant what he said, and all the preaching 
and shouting in Virginia would not have 
stopped him, and was partly out of respect for 
the meeting and partly out of respect for Phil 
that he said. “ Let it all go, let it all go." 

** All right. Captain, but I’ll be cussed if you 
oughtn’t ter treat ’em better. Look," point- 
ing to where Lucy and I sat at the spring, 

they are happy and you try to interfere. 
Gad, it makes my blood bile." 

“ But, Phil " 

“ No buts about it. I loved a girl once and 
my heart was as gentle as a woman’s until a 
scoundrel with his forked tongue came between 
us; when I saw her agin she was dying; I 
took her little hand in mine ; " here he stopped 
to wipe away a tear, “ and she told me about it, 
and by the Lord I left to keep from horse-whip- 
ping her father. You’ve loved a girl, Cap’n." 

“ That's so, Phil, and I may be wrong. I will 
think about it anyway." 

** Papa is coming down to the spring I think. 
Won’t you speak to him, please ?’’ 

“ If he speaks to me I will ; if he don’t I 
will not." 


144 


Har Lampkins. 


“ Good morning, Mr. Lampkins,’* he said, 
when he came up and extended his hand. 

I shook hands with him. 

“ Won’t you take dinner with us ? ” he asked. 
“ We have dinner on the ground.” 

“ I have promised mother Jones, thank you.” 

“ I’ll see that he comes, papa,” said Lucy, 
when her father had turned to go away. 

“ Now you must, Mr. Lampkins, won’t 
you ? ” 

But I have promised ” 

“ Oh, that’s all right. We can spread our 
dinner together and you can eat with both of 
us, Mr. Contrary.” 

“ Good morning, my boy, good morning,” 
Judge Fulton greeted me as he came in and sat 
down in his usual place, the next morning. 
“ Had a nice time while you were away did 
you ? ” 

“ Splendid, I thank you. I attended Quar- 
terly Meeting yesterday.” 

“ Any shouting ? ” his daughter asked. 

“ Yes, a good deal.” 

“ I do love to hear those good people shout. 

I think that they enjoy it so much.” 

“ The Elder and Circuit Rider are the greatest 
men that ever darken their doors, but there is 
more religion in one of those log cabin homes 


At Uncle Eli’s. 


145 

than all the contemptible aristocracy this 
town has ever seen.” 

“ That’s right, my boy,” said Judge Fulton, 
“ I admire a young man that can tell the truth 
whether the people frown or smile.” 

Tuesday came and Henry was in town early 
and we were walking down the street when we 
met George Perkins. “ Good morning, George,” 
I said, extending my hand. 

“ Don’t speak to me, don’t do it while yer go 
round the street with that lout,” pointing to 
Henry. “ I am going to marry Minnie Jones 
myself and not him.” 

Henry sprang forward and would have hit 
him, but I caught him. “ You are a liar, George 
Perkins.” 

“ That’s all right. I’ve come to get ther 
license and we are gwine ter git married ter- 
morrer.” 

Perkins was drunk and I pulled Henry away, 
and as I did so he said to him. You’ll 
answer to me for this, Perkins, before the sun 
rises again.” 

Alius loved the gal, and I am not gwine 
ter be cheated out of her now ; yer bet yer 
life I ain’t,” I heard Perkins say while we were 
walking as rapidly away as I could get Henry 

along. 

10 


“ Har Lampkins. 


146 

** I would like to thrash that scoundrel, and 
I will, Lampkins, for his impudence.” 

“ He is drinking, Henry, and you can’t afford 
to mix up in anything of that kind now ; to- 
morrow is your wedding day.” 

“ You mixed with him in one fight and now 
do you think that because I am to be married 
to-morrow I will let him handle lightly the 
name of the girl I am to marry. I’ll* tell you, 
Lampkins I won’t take it.” 

Perkins grew uglier as the day grew older, 
and much to my surprise left town without 
being killed. He raised a row with the clerk, 
cursed the sheriff and quarreled with every one 
that would notice him except George Painter. 
They were on the best of terms and visited the 
saloon many times during the day. 

Judge Fulton requested me to ride over to 
Squire Burton’s that afternoon and attend to 
a suit that he had, saying, This will be a 
starter for you.” 

Henry was very much anoyed because I 
could not keep my engagement to ride home 
with him, but insisted that I should be on time 
for the wedding. 

‘‘ I will be there, old boy, don’t worry,” I 
told him when I rode away. 

I arose early and had everything in readiness 


At Uncle Eli’s. 


147 


to leave with the sunrise. The horse sniffed 
the air sweet with dew and sped along the 
road at an easy but swift pace. When I came 
in sight of the place where the road forked, 
where I had promised to meet Henry, I saw 
several men waiting, instead of one as I had 
expected. I saw Henry among them. I 
thought that he was aiming to give me a sur- 
prise by inviting quite a number of his friends 
at what I thought was to be a quiet wedding. 
I drove up and found Henry in the custody of 
the sheriff with ropes tied around his arms. 
George Painter was there and affected a 
show of great distress. “ What is the 
matter here?” I asked as I jumped from my 
buggy. 

“ Haven’t you heard?” Henry asked. 

Heard what ? ” 

It is this, Mr. Lampkins,” said Painter in 
his cool, sarcastic way, “Johnson shot and 
killed George Perkins and he is under arrest 
charged with murder.” 

“ You seem to know a great deal about it,” 
I said. 

“ I know quite too much, I am afraid,” 
“but ” 

“ Not another word from you, for I don’t 
l^elieve a thing that you say, and I warn you 


148 Har Lampkins.” 

now that I will probe this thing to the bottom, 
for I believe that you killed Perkins." 

I watched him closely while I made this 
deliberate charge and his face turned very pale. 

“ We’ll take charge of you," said Painter, 
stepping in my direction, “ if you " 

“ Stand back," I said ; “ attempt to place one 
of your dirty fingers on me and I will shoot you 
as I would a dog." 

“ Lampkins," said Henry, I am glad that 
you think that I am innocent, but I am " 

“ Stop, Henry, for God’s sake stop." 

“ Perhaps you know best, Lampkins, and I 
will do as you say." 

Henry and Lucy were on their way to Uncle 
Eli’s when they had been stopped by the 
Sheriff and Henry was arrested. George 
Perkins had been shot the night before by a 
forty-four revolver, so the doctor testified before 
the coroner’s jury. 

They brought in the following verdict : 

Came to his death by a pistol shot fired by 
some unknown party." 

Painter had sworn out the warrant against 
Henry, and stated the row in town the day 
previous and the threats that Henry had made 
while angry. That Perkins had left town that 
evening, and Henry a few minutes later, Some 


At Uncle Eli’s. 


149 


of the crowd declared that Henry would have 
made a confession if I had not stopped him. 
I went over to the buggy where Lucy sat pale 
and calm. 

“Can you help us just now?” I asked. 

“ Anything that is in my power I will do. 
Command me and you will find that I am 
strong enough to obey.” 

I tore a leaf from my day-book and wrote a 
note. Give this to Uncle Eli and tell Miss 
Minnie what has happened, but to be brave, 
and we will clear this up very soon.” 

She gathered up the reins and struck the 
horse with a resolute hand and started on her 
errand. I spoke a word or two to the sheriff 
and left in a fast gallop for Captain John- 
son’s, three miles away. He met me at the 
gate. “ Captain, I have very unpleasant news to 
communicate.” I then stated as nearly as I 
could all I knew concerning Henry’s arrest. 

“ It is a serious case,” he said. 

“We don’t mind the case; it is something 
else we dread.” 

“What is it?” 

“ A mob.” 

“ That’s a fact ; we have a dangerous crowd to 
deal with. Wait until I get my gun.” 

He dashed into the house and dashed out 


“ Har Lampkins.” 


150 

again, buckling on his pistols as he came run- 
ning down the walk. He jumped into the 
buggy and we drove away. 

“ Phil and Uncle Eli will meet us there,” I 
said. 

“ How will they know about it ? ” 

“ I sent them word by Miss Lucy. 

“ With them and the sheriff we will make it 
lively for any crowd that these hills can pro- 
duce.” 

When Miss Minnie heard it she turned pale, 
but did not cry. Uncle Eli caught up his gun, 
and Phil blurted out, “ Gad, another order 
from my ole Kurnel.” 

Mrs. Johnson almost went into hysterics, 
and mother called upon the Lord to have 
mercy upon them. When we reached the fork 
of the road where we had left Henry and his 
captors, they were not there. Some one in 
passing by said, “ Having a lynching just 
around the bend.” 

Great God!” groaned Captain Johnson. 
I lashed the horse into a run, and as I turned 
the bend in the road we saw a howling crowd 
two hundred yards ahead of us, and some one 
of them threw a rope over a limb ; two men 
dashed up, their horses covered with foam, and 
they spurred them right into the midst of the 


At Uncle Eli's. 


151 

mob that were howling and shouting like 
demons and thirsty for blood. A shotgun 
swung around in the air, and George Painter 
dropped with a fearful gash in his head ; at the 
same time a shotgun fired, and the man who 
was tying the rope fell from the tree with a 
thud. Jim Peters threw his pistol on Uncle 
Eli, and none too soon did two pistol reports 
simultaneously ring out from a flying buggy 
and Peters’ pistol never fired. I leaped from 
the buggy and cut the rope from Henry’s neck 
and arms, and placed a gun in his hands. The 
cowards that could coolly hang a man who was 
in their power and helpless, fired a harmless 
volley in the air, and ran like a pack of whipped 
curs. The sherifi made his appearance 
white and scared, and Henry told him that he 
was ready to go with him, and handed me his 
gun. 

“ Hold on er minit,” said Uncle Eli, “ better 
take something on this, I guess. A straight 
drink, Lampkins, a straight drink, sir.” 

By gad ! ” exclaimed Phil, “ best fight yit. 
My ole Kurnel would er enjoyed that fight; 
wish it had er lasted longer.” 

Captain Johnson was crying like a child. 
He held out his hand to me and said, “ I have 
done you a great wrong, Lamp ” 


Har Lampkins/^ 


152 

‘^Not now, Captain; let that go by for the 
present. We are too busy to listen to confes- 
sions, now. We must get Henry out of this.” 

We drove to town and bail was refused 
Henry, but he bore it bravely. When all had 
been done that was in our power to make him 
comfortable in the little wooden jail. Captain 
Johnson, Uncle Eli and Phil left for home. I 
was sitting in the office and thinking of the 
strange turn affairs had taken ; I had related 
the circumstances to Judge Fulton and secured 
his services in Henry’s defense. 

“ Pretty bad case,” said he, “ but we will 
see what we can do ; I have pulled many a fel- 
low through worse than this.” 

Some one poked their head in the door 
and asked, ” Is Mr. Lampkins in ? ’’ 

“ Yes, come in.” 

“ No, I ain’t got time. Young Johnson 
wants ter see yer a minit.” 

“ All right,” I replied, and went with him. I 
found Henry sitting on the bed of straw with 
his coat and vest off. When I entered he mo- 
tioned to me to sit down on the bed by him. 

“ What is it ? ” I asked, when I had seated 
myself. 

“ I want you to promise me, Lampkins, that 
you will do me a favor,” 


At tincle Eili's. 


153 

“ I hope that you know there is nothing 
within my power that I would not do for you. 
Tell me what it is?’' 

“ I want you to take this message that I have 
written, to Minnie, and while you are there 
will you go by home and tell mother and Lucy 
that I am all right, and ” 

“ Of course £ will, you ” 

“ Hold on, now, I am not through yet. They 
will w'ant to come here and see me ; that is one 
thing that they must not do. You will tell 
them this, and get them to promise that they 
will not. I know thej/ will want to see me, 
for they love me, but I can’t bear to see my 
mother crying.” 

A tear dropped on my hand and one fell on 
his as they clasped each other in a good-by. 

“ When do you go, Lampkins?” 

“ Now,” I said and turned away. 

In my heart love and sorrow mingled and 
romped together like playmates. The stars 
were peeping when I rode out of the village-, 
and the dew fell silently and wet my horse s 
mane. The old owl hooted his rough disma’ 
note, and my tears fell like rain and mixed 
with the dew as I rode along, bearing my 
silent, sad, sweet message. The old watch- 
dog barked and romped as I entered the yard. 


“ Har Lampklns.*’ 


i54 

He leaped upon me and licked my hand and 
played around me. The wooden clock, which 
the Circuit Rider knocked down and broke, 
had been repaired and was knocking the 
seconds into minutes and the minutes into 
hours, struck eleven as I walked up the path. 
I heard voices inside. 

“ You are a trump, Phil, blamed if yer ain’t.” 

“Yes, learned it from my ole Kurnel.” 

“ Couldn’t help swearing ter-day, Phil, d — d 
if I could. Don’t tell mother.” 

“ We must go to bed. Eel ; Lampkins may 
need us ter-morrow.” 

“ All right, Phil ; here’s ter Washin’ton, 
Lee, Jackson, Phil, your ole Kurnel and 
Lampkins ” 

“And Abraham Lincoln,” broke in Phil. 

“ No, I’ll be cussed if it is; your ole Kurnel 
is the only Yankee on top side of yearth 
that I’ll drink a health to.” 

“ Washington was a Yankee.” 

“ No he wasn’t. He was a born Virginnyian 
and nobody has accused Virginny of being a 
Yankee state.” 

“ But ” 

“ No buts about it. If yer say ernother word, 
Phil, I’ll strike yer ole Kurnel out ; so here 
goes.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

AN INTERVIEW WITH HENRY IN THE JAIL. 

Miss Minnie had not yet retired. When 
she heard me talking to her father she came 
into the room where we were. 

“ Phil,” said Uncle Eli as he arose, his thin, 
straight, white hair as smooth as the plumage 
of a bird and his nose large and slightly 
Roman, “we must put up the boy’s horse.” 

“All right. Eel Lampkins, old boy, make 
yourself at home. Be back in er minit.” 

Minnie Jones looked at me with her large 
blue eyes, innocent, trusting and pure, that 
asked a question more forcibly than words 
could have done. Her face was pale with 
anxiety and her heart throbbed violently with 
wounded love, and her pleading look touched 
me, for I had learned to love her like a sister. 
I placed the little missive in her little white 
hand and it trembled as she unfolded it. Her 
face brightened somewhat with a sad smile as 
she read the note, 

“Thank God, Har.,” she said, “that we have 

*55 


Har Lampkins?’ 


156 

such a friend as you are,” and the pent up 
tears gathered in her eyes and her chin quiv- 
ered as they gushed down her face. 

“ Don’t cry, little sister,” I said, as I took 
her hands from her face. 

“ I won’t cry, for it’s not brave to cry, and 
my heart has already taken the vow that my 
lips would have taken to-day, and in this first 
great trial I’ll not grow faint-hearted, for I 
love him so.” 

Another day with its uncertainties, its 
trials and joys and sorrows, burst forth in full 
splendor. The young day was so beautiful, be- 
decked with morning glories and flutter of the 
pure sunlight, that it must have made sad hearts 
glad. Before I rose I heard Uncle Eli in the 
yard below my window : 

“ Say, Phil, bring that fiddle out here and 
play that piece you played the first time that 
I saw you.” In a few moments the air vibrated 
with music and Uncle Eli kept time, uncon- 
sciously, with his foot to “ Soldiers’ Joy.” 

“ Thirteen years ter-day, Phil, since I first 
heard yer play that. It’s the sweetest tune on 
yearth.” 

“Yes; wish you could er hearn my ole 
Kurnel play it. Cry in spite of h — 1.” 

“ Phil, I am eighty-one ter-day. I have 


An Interview with Henry in the Jail, is‘7 

known yer thirteen years. WeVe been in 
some tight places together, and I love yer 
like er brother.” 

“ Gad ! we have, Eel, and I never was with 
but one man that could fight jest like yer 
can.” 

After breakfast I rode over to Captain John- 
son’s. Mrs. Johnson met me with eyes swol- 
len from tears. Lucy was pale, and sat 
quietly listening as I told them that Henry 
did not want them to visit him while in 
prison. 

“ Do you think that it will take long to 
liberate him ? ” asked his mother. 

** I trust not. We will do the best that 
we can to get him a trial in next month.” 

“ Is the evidence strong against him?” 

Oh, mother,” said Lucy, “don’t talk as if 
you think that he is guilty. I know that he 
is innocent ; don’t you, Mr. Lampkins? ” 

“ I believe him to be,” I answered, knowing 
that I was not exactly telling the truth, for I { 
feared that he had killed George Perkins in 
self-defense, but I did not believe that he 
thought that he did. 

I had been in town but a few moments when 
Judge Fulton proposed an interview with 
Henry, When we reached the jail we found 


“ Har Lampkins. 


tsS 

the keeper lying under the shade of a locust oil 
a sheep skin and lazily fighting the flies that 
were flying around him. 

Heowdy dew, gemmen,” he drawled out as 
though it was an effort for him to talk. 

We spoke to him and told him our business. 

“ A-1-1 r-i-g-h-t,” he returned, sitting up and 
lazily rubbing one eye, and yawning as though 
he had just been waked from a nap. 

T-h-a-t f-e-l-l-e-r is holding up all r-i-g-h-t ; 
gritty as sandstun.” 

We found him pretty much as I had left him 
sitting on his bed. He greeted us kindly and 
asked us to be seated. 

Now, Henry,” said the Judge, “tell us all 
about what occurred between the time that you 
left here and the time that you reached home 
on last Tuesday evening. Tell us everything so 
that we can go at this case in the right manner.” 
After a moment’s hesitation he gave us the fol- 
lowing : 

“There is but little to tell that you do not 
already know. I left town about half-past five 
in the evening and rode slowly towards home. 
I stopped where Lem Perkins was cutting some 
grass for his mules. I talked a few minutes 
with him, probably four or five. He said 
during our talk his nephew George had passed 


An Interview with Henry in the Jail. 159 

there just ahead of me and was pretty boozy. 
It was then getting dark. I rode on, thinking 
something that cannot in any way affect mat- 
ters now. I had not gone far when I heard some 
one say : “ Damn you, you shan’t rob me of 
that girl ! ” I did not know who it was until he 
jumped into the middle of the road when I rec- 
ognized George Perkins. He drew his revol- 
ver and shot at me. I returned the fire. He 
ran by me, and as he did so I wheeled my horse 
and another shot rang out, and he hollered but 
kept on running. I don’t believe that I fired 
the last shot. I may have killed George Per- 
kins, but I don’t believe that 1 did. It is true 
there were two empty hulls in my revolver, 
but I don’t remember of ever firing but the 
one shot. My father must have shot the other 
one when my pistol was laying up at home. 
I rode home, not knowing that he was hurt 
badly. I did not say anything about it for I 
wanted everything to be pleasant on my wedd- 
ing day, and how it turned out you already 
know. These are the facts and this is all that 
I know about it.” 

“ Where did the ball hit Perkins, Lampkins ? ” 

“ Between the shoulders, Judge, and lodged 
just below the heart.” 

“ Then he could not have shot himself.” 


i6o “ Har Lampkins.” 

“ Did you see any one else, Henry, at this 
time ? ” 

“ I did not, but I thought that I heard some 
one running. 1 may have been mistaken about 
that.” 

Judge Fulton sat with his head hung low, 
a habit that he had fallen into when thinking 
deeply. Some time he sat thus and not aword 
was spoken. When he arose to go he shook 
Henry’s hand and said : “ Don’t grow despon- 
dent ; you will come out of this all right or I 
am greatly fooled.” 

We walked in silence to the office and seated 
ourselves in our usual places. After a while he 
turned to me. “ Lampkins, this is a bad case, 
and just how to go at it, I am puzzled to know. 
I do not believe that Johnson shot young Per- 
kins intentionally, but circumstances are against 
us. Let me see,” he continued, talking more 
to himself than to me — “ had a quarrel with 
Perkins in the morning ; was prevented from 
striking him ; threatened to kill him before 
sunrise ; left town within a few minutes after 
Perkins did ; passed Lem Perkins’s about a 
half a mile behind him ; Perkins was found 
dead with a shot in the back ; same calibre as 
Henry always carries; two chambers of his 
revolver empty and one of Perkins.” 


An Interview with Henry in the Jail. i6i 

My God, Judge," I exclaimed, “are you 
going to prosecute the man ?" 

“ I am going over exactly what they will 
prove, and to refute this we must either prove 
an alibi or show who did kill Perkins ; if we 
can’t do this it looks serious for young John- 
son." 

Perspiration stood out in great beads upon my 
forehead, I had not thought of the case in this 
light and I almost felt angry with Judge Ful- 
ton for what he had said ; but that his logic 
was good, was clear even to my mind, numbed 
as it was with friendship almost akin to love. 
I vowed that I would clear up the mystery and 
prove who killed Perkins, but my heart sank 
within me when I thought of Judge Fulton’s 
analysis. It disturbed my sleep and annoyed 
me when I was awake. One day as I sat think- 
ing, trying to determine upon some plan of 
action, some one rapped on the door. “ Come 
in," I said without turning around to see who 
it was. 

“ Har, aren’t you going to speak tome?" 
and I faced about and shook hands with Minnie 
Jones. 

“ I want you to go with me to the jail she 
said. “ Please don’t object, it will be all right 
with Henry." 


i 62 


Har Lampkins.’* 


I went with her. 

** Minnie, why did you come here,” he said. 

“ To see you,” she said, holding out her hands 
to him. He caught them and pressed them to 
his lips, and his arms stole gently around her 
as I slipped out and left them together. 

When I returned they were talking as though 
they were sitting in the parlor at home. 

“ Will you always love me, even if they — ” 

“ I will always think of you as I do now, 
and if they were to convict you I would wait 
and marry you when you returned.” 

He kissed her when she arose to go and 
begged her not to worry about him, saying 
that he would be all right. 

May I come to see you again?” 

He looked at her a moment and then 
answered. Anything that you want to do 
will please me. Good-by.” 

The door closed with a slam and the 
old log chain was replaced and the padlock 
was turned with a rusty key. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

AT HOME. 

It was a hot, sultry day in August ; it had 
been hot since the dawn, but it was the day 
that I had determined to leave the scenes of 
the past few months and look again upon the 
home of my childhood. I was up with the 
birds and set out on my journey at the sunrise. 
I did not travel in going back as I did when 
I came. I left home on foot, but this morning 
I sat behind a nice sleek horse that drew a 
soft-cushioned buggy. As I came, my heart 
was sore and my eyes oft dropped the briny 
tears on the hilltops where I stopped to rest, 
for I felt that my father had done me an injury ; 
but now my heart was glad ; nothing but love 
for those at home occupied my thoughts. I 
could see my father with his kind heart, and 
I knew that he loved his boys in spite of the 
grim spells that nature forced upon him. On 
the evening of the third day after leaving my 
friends in the hamlet among the blue grass 
hills I came in sight of home. Every famili*ar 


“ Har Lampkins. 


164 

object that met my eager gaze smiled at me 
through the long slanting silvery rays, each 
laden with kisses, and bearing a sweet mes- 
sage on its wings. The sun in his brilliant glory 
struggled to keep his head above the hilltops, 
to witness the meeting that he knew must 
come. I opened the gate hinged with an 
old hickory withe and an old shoe sole that 
squeaked a noisy protest to the young man 
that swung on its lazy frame in its childhood. 

I was less than one hundred yards from my 
old cabin home, and old Tray, the watchdog, 
had been my companion in my boyhood, and 
roamed with me through leafy woodlands and 
barked gleefully his approval while I glided 
down the hillsides when they were capped and 
frozen by the feathery snow. He barked now 
in deep-mouthed welcome and played around 
me. 

The cabin door swung back on its rusty 
hinges and in it stood my mother, who had shed 
a tear when I left home, and beside her my 
father. He placed his rough and toil-hardened 
hand upon her shoulder and it trembled. He 
held his newspaper in the other hand and tears, 
the first that I had ever seen my father shed, 
ran down his honest cheeks, and my little sis- 
ter met me and threw her hands around my 


At Home. 


165 

neck and kissed me. I felt my mother’s kiss 
and heard my father’s welcome home. My 
brothers were glad to see me, and at my request 
Sam picked up his old violin and played as he 
did before I crossed the mountain. I inquired 
about the young man whose ribs I had broken 
and was told that he and the young lady had 
married some three months after I left. 

My mother stroked my hair with a mother’s 
gentlest touch while I told them of the beautiful 
scenery that I had passed on my way and how 
I had taught school and boarded with Uncle 
Eli. 

Eli Jones? ” asked my father. ** Why, he’s 
the best friend that I ever had ; helped me to 
steal your ma, Harry.” 

“ Did he?” 

“Yes, and say, mother,” pressing her hand, 
‘ it makes me feel like I was young again, but 
1 never loved you better than I do now.” 

I told them of meeting Captain Johnson and 
about his daughter Lucy and how beautiful I 
thought she was. 

“ Why, Harry,” exclaimed mother, “ you talk 
like you are in love with her.” 

“ I am,” I replied, “ and I want yours and 
father’s consent to marry her.” 

That is strange,” said father, “ my son mar- 


1 66 “ Har Lampkins.” 

rying one of mother’s sweetheart’s children ; 

I can’t ” 

Father!” said mother. 

“ I know all about that,” I said, ** but we 
don’t care anything about your difficulties. 
We ” 

“ Love each other,” finished mother. 

“ That settles it, Harry,” said father, ‘‘ do as 
you please.” 

Yes,” said mother, ‘‘your choice is our 
choice, but all that we are able to give you is 
our good wishes. They are yours, my son, in 
abundance.” 

“ Mother, you have more than that. You 
think that your father did not provide for you 
in his will, but he did. He has been sleeping 
in blissful ignorance, believing that he left you 
an independent woman and happy.” 

“ What do you mean, my son? ” 

“ I mean this, that my grandfather left you 
one half of everything that he was worth in 
money. It was placed in the Bank of Peters- 
ville, on interest, and is there for you now. The 
other half was left to his adopted daughter, 
Mrs. Johnson.” 

They were surprised for a moment. 

“ How much did you say, Harry ? ” asked my 
father. 


At Home. 


167 


“ Several thousand dollars." 

“ ril jest ride over thar with you and git it.” 

“ But the will stipulates that mother must 
call for this in person. I came after her for 
that purpose and you shall go with us.” 

“ We will go,” said father. 

The conversation then drifted towards people 
they had known in their younger days. I told 
mother how her cousin, Mrs. Perkins, had 
saved the will and begged her forgiveness. 

The hour was growing late when I sought 
the bed that I had knelt beside when I was a 
boy and said my prayers, and wrapped myself 
in slumber, in the same sweet place that had 
encircled my childhood’s dreams, and fell to 
sleep a happy man. 

I rose early the next morning and walked 
down to the spring and dipped a gourd of clear 
cool water from its bursting fulness that flowed 
out over its white pebbly bottom, rippling, 
leaping, laughing as it hurried on to the sea. 
I bathed my face and hands in the same pool 
where the water poured over the rock below 
the spring house, as it had been my custom in 
the summer time since my early childhood. I 
was listening to the little trickling roar that the 
water made and fancying myself a child when 
my little sister threw her arms around me. I 


i68 


“ Har Lampkins. 


gave a little jump, and she laughed and said: 
“ What a coward, Harry, you have grown, to 
be afraid of me.” 

‘‘You surprise me, Bess, but sit down, I am 
glad that you came.” 

“ Yes, I brought you a towel, Harry. Won’t 
you let me wash my hands with you, as you 
did before you went so far away ? ” j 

“ Of course I will ; what made you think 
that I would not ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing, but you look different ; your 
eyes are the same and your hair is wavy, butj 
you have changed some way.” 

“ But I love you just the same,” I said, plac- 
ing my arm around her little slender waist. 

“ I am so glad that you have come back. 
Mother won’t cry now when she goes up to 
your room, nor when I read the same books that 
you read to her. She asked me to read to her 
and I do, but I don’t like to have her cry when I 
read your books, so I steal away and read them 
in the shade where you read them to me.” 

She looked up to me with her sweet childish 
manner, “ Oh, Harry,” she exclaimed, nestling 
closer and kissing, me, “ are you crying too ? ” 

We bathed our hands and faces, I picked her 
up, as I did some three or four years previous 
and sat her on my shoulder. She laughingly 


At Home. i6$ 

protested saying, I am too big, Harry, but I 
enjoy it again.” 

Breakfast was ready and I sat down at my 
father’s table and ate fried chicken that my 
mother had prepared, I don’t think that I ever 
before or since so much enjoyed a meal as I 
did that one, for there is a great deal in the 
touch that set it. 

You may be really fond of any dish, but let 
a mother’s hand add the salt or soda and it 
sweetens it with a flavor so rare that it cannot 
be disguised, but I wot that it has been felt by 
every young man who reads this story. 


CHAPTER XX. 

PRESIDENT OF THE BANK OF PETERSVILLE. 

During my absence, Judge Fulton with my 
consent, had the will set up. I returned, as 
per our agreement, upon the day that this was 
done, bringing my mother with me, and father 
promised that he would follow us within the 
week, being detained as witness in court. 

Judge Fulton declared that the daughter of 
his former law partner and the mother of his 
present law partner should stop with him while 
she was in Petersville. 

When the Petersville Bank opened up the 
following morning the officers were discussing 
the new railroad, that had been surveyed at 
least ten years before. The Norfolk & West- 
ern had determined to build this line to give 
them an outlet to the great West. The bank 
had decided to take several shares of stock and 
had the promise of handling the money set 
apart by the Company to build the road through 
that section of the country. 

** It will increase our business very materi- 
ally, ” said the President, 

170 


President of the Bank of Petersville. 171 

“ Ought to double it,” whined the cashier, 
who a few months before had said when speak- 
ing of me, “ I don’t see what Judge Fulton 
sees in that young beggar he has for a law 
student.*’ 

“ But we must treat him well on the Judge’s 
account,” the president had contended. 

In the hottest part of the discussion and 
when the enthusiasm was running the highest 
with the Bank officials, over the new enterprise 
that was soon to start up, we entered the Bank, 
and asked to see the President. 

“ He is very busy, sir,” answered one of the 
clerks. 

“ Anything important ? ” 

“Yes, sir, it is important that my mother and 
I see him now.” 

“ I will see.” 

He entered into a room in the rear of the 
building, returned in a moment and said : “ He 
is very busy and if it is not too important, he 
will see you to-morrow.” 

“ Say to him that it is very important, and 
that I must see him now.” 

He went to the same room and stayed about 
the same length of time with that distinguished 
personage, the Bank President, and returned 
again. 


172 “ Har Lampkins.’^ 

“ He will see you. Right this way, please,” 
and we were ushered into his august pres- 
ence. 

Before detailing the conversation that took 
place, the reader will better understand it, to 
know something of this man’s previous life and 
characteristics. He was of medium height 
and slim, and about fifty-five years of age. 
He had cold gray eyes and hair streaked with 
gray. His face was thin at the jaws and his 
cheeks wore a tight miserly expression, when 
he spoke in his cold tone with measured ac- 
cents, peculiar only to men in similar positions. 
He had been a retail merchant in time ; bought 
goods heavily, and made some money in that 
way. His father had owned several hundred 
acres of land and bought cattle to graze it. 
Sold cattle and claimed to have lost heavily, 
when the truth is he did not. Sold his farm 
to his son before he made the debts that he 
yet owed, and paid them off with twenty- 
five cents on the dollar. The banker then sold 
the farm and about the same time his father 
died and left him the money that the cattle 
brought him, and with the money thus secured 
he had gotten himself the position of president 
of the bank of Petersville. The cashier and 
others retired as we entered the room. He 


President of the Bank of Petersville. 173 

motioned us to a seat and asked, “ What is it 
that you wish to see me about ?” 

“ This is my mother, Mr. Haines.'’ 

“Yes,” he answered without rising, and look- 
ing at me coolly and almost with contempt. 

“ I suppose that you remember the late 
William Taylor, one of your old customers who 
died several years ago.” 

“William Taylor,” he repeated. “Yes, I 
think that I do.” 

“This is his daughter, Mary Taylor, who 
married Lampkins over my grandfather’s pro- 
test.” 

At this he opened wider his little eyes and 
appeared uneasy, but soon regained his com- 
posure. I hesitated a moment to give him 
t*ime to think. 

“ Go on,” he said. 

“ My grandfather adopted the present Mrs. 
Johnson, Captain Johnson’s wife, also one of 
your customers. We always supposed that 
grandfather left his entire estate to her.” 

Mr. Haines turned in his chair uneasily. 

“ However,” I continued, “ there was a will 
made, dated the 31st of March, 1852, leaving 
one half of his estate to his daughter and one 
half to his adopted daughter. My mother’s 
share was in money and plased in the bank of 


1 74 “ Har Lampkins/’ 

Petersville to be hers with interest when called 
for in person. She is here ready to receive 
it." 

“ H’m, young man, that is a smooth story 
of yours, but we must have something more 
substantial to do business on. The bank will 
positively refuse to pay you or your mother 
anything, if this lady is your mother, on such 
proof." 

“ Do you remember how you and your wife 
quarreled when you were sweethearts, at our 
home, because you took me out riding ? " asked 
my mother. 

“ Hem — hem, that may be ; wait a minute, 
and I will speak to our cashier." 

While he was gone I took the receipt from my 
pocket, bearing date, with the will, and signed 
by Johnson Haines as president of the bank 
of Petersville. This was his first year and his 
first receipt as president, Judge Fulton had 
told me. 

“ I am sorry, sir," he exclaimed when he re- 
turned, “ but we cannot do business so loosely. 
Have you any proof that the money was ever 
placed here ? " 

I handed him the receipt ; he cleared his 
throat several times ; looked long at the re- 
ceipt : 


President of the Bank of Petersville. 175 

But how do we know who you are?" he 
said, trying to crush the receipt into a 
wad. 

“ Give that receipt here," I demanded. 

“ Beg your pardon ; did not notice what it 
was." 

This fib came as natural as though he was 
accustomed to it. 

“ Excuse me one minute, and I will bring 
proof of our identity, Mr. Haines." 

When I returned with Judge Fulton he 
turned paler than he had yet. 

“Here, Mr. Haines," said I, “ask Judge 
Fulton if he knows this lady." 

“ I can settle that without difficulty, Mr. 
Haines," Judge Fulton began. “I knew that 
lady in her childhood and up until she was 
married, and that she is William Taylor’s 
daughter I can testify without hesitation." 

“ Might you not be mistaken. It has been 
a long time since you have seen her?" Haines 
asked in a quivering voice. 

“ No, I am not mistaken ; she has played in 
my office when she was a child. I have nursed 
her and I know beyond a doubt who she is." 

“Judge I have great respect for your word 
and judgment, but the bank can’t pay out so 
much money on these statements. If it was 


“ Har Lampkins. 


176 

my own money, I would not hesitate, for I 
know what you say would be all right/’ 

For the first time during my acquaintance 
with Judge Fulton I had seen his smooth 
temper ruffled. 

‘‘John Haines,” he said, growing red to the 
very roots of his gray hair, “ you have robbed 
people long enough, and I will see that you 
pay the lady this money, or I will close the 
doors of this bank at one o’clock to-day.” 

“ But, my dear Judge, you see that ” 

“Yes, I see you plainly enough as I have al- 
ways seen you, rotten to your heart’s core.” 

He opened the door and said : “ Come, 
Lampkins, bring your mother.” 

“ Hold on a minute, let me see,” said the 
banker; “can’t you and Lampkins meet me 
here at one o’clock this evening. We ought 
to be able to arrange this matter satisfacto- 
rily.” 

“ We can,” said the Judge, “ but in the mean- 
time I will prepare the papers, and if you don’t 
act fairly you and all the officials of this bank 
will be placed under arrest, and the money a*nd 
bonds, etc., will be attached before two 
o’clock.” 

“The scoundrel ! ” said the Judge when we 
were inside the office. 


President of the Bank of Petersville. 177 

At one o’clock we presented ourselves at the 
president’s private office. 

“ Have a seat, gentlemen. Pleasant after- 
noon.” 

His manner had changed entirely. To meet 
him now would impress one that he was a 
quick, pleasant and shrewd business man. 

“ We have concluded to pay Mrs. Lampkins 
her money and I have made out a check to her 
for the amount.” 

He handed me the check and at the same 
time a receipt book and pen. “ Please sign the 
receipt,” he said, without giving me time to 
look at the check. 

“ This check is for $20,000. I said. This 
amount is only the principal without the in- 
terest.” 

“ Don’t accept that check, Lampkins,” said 
Judge Fulton; “the amount is $56,000 not 
$20,000.” 

“But surely. Judge, you cannot expect the 
bank to pay six per cent, interest.” 

“ We expect you to pay exactly that, and 
no more, Mr. Haines.” 

“ But the bank don’t pay that much interest 
on deposits and would never give a contract 
to that effect.” 

“ But the bank did give a contract to that 
12 


“ Har Lampkins. 


178 

effect,” said Judge, pulling out out an agree- 
ment from his pocket. 

Did you sign that ? ” 

“Yes,” he answered, “ I believe that I did, 
but ” 

“ Yes, you signed it and the bank will pay 
the interest stated.” 

“ We will never agree to pay it.” 

“ All right,” the judge replied, and walked 
to the door. 

The sheriff came in, arrested the president 
and the cashier, attached the bank property 
and closed the doors. 

“ Who went on that attachment bond ? ” 
Haines asked when he reached the street. 

“I for one,” answered Judge Fulton, “and 
I for another,” said Captain Johnson, as he 
came up in time to hear what Haines had said. 

“ There is another bond which you will be 
more concerned about than this one,” said the 
sheriff. “ We had better attend to that. Come.” 

Business men came to see Judge Fulton 
and talk over the bank sensation ; those whom 
Haines had accommodated were there, and 
those he had ground beneath his heel came 
whining their complaints, hoping to reinstate 
themselves in his favor and bowing low to 
the golden calf, 


President of the Bank of Petersville. 179 

Some said it was a pity to lock up a man 
like Haines; others swore that it was a shame 
to put in jail a man of his standing and 
worth. This had but very little effect upon 
the stern old man who listened to them. 
He had pleaded before the jury so much and 
sat on the bench so long that he read human 
nature like a book. 

“ There is but one thing that can turn 
him loose." 

“ What is that ? " several voices asked at 
once. 

“ Pay Lampkins his money and I will have 
him turned out before the sun goes down." 

Haines and the cashier had been in jail 
less than one hour when they sent for us to 
come and have a talk with them. When we 
reached the jail he was holding the bars 
with both hands ; the perspiration was stand- 
ing out in great beads upon his forehead and 
hands. 

“What is it, Haines?" asked the judge. 

“ I want to talk over this matter with you. 
Think, Judge, of the disgrace that this will 
bring upon me." 

“ You are the one to think of that." 

“ I thought that you were my friend, 
Judge." 


i8o “Har Lampkins." 

“ I am the friend of honesty and not of 
rascality. You know my motto: ‘An honest 
beggar is better than a diamond thief.’ ” 

“What can I do? What can I do?” he 
muttered to himself, wringing his hands. 

“ Pay the money over,” the judge sug- 
gested. 

“ But the bank won’t agree and I can’t 
pay it with my own money.” 

“ Oh, yes, the bank will. I have had it 
locked up too,” said the judge, smiling. 

“ If the bank will pay it, will you promise 
to suppress this and make a deposit with 
us ? ” 

“ We have no promises to make,” I an- 
swered. “ The money is my mother’s and she 
can do as she pleases with it.” 

“ I think that we will pay it, but, Lampkins,” 
he said with his most winning way, “ you ought 
to give us a show and make your deposits with 
us. I assure you that we will always treat you 
fairly.” 

“ I have no doubt about that, from the way 
that you have acted in this matter.” 

He wrote the check without replying to 
what I had said, and the cashier and himself 
were released from prison. 

They walked to the bank and certified th^ 


President of the Bank of Petersville. i8i 


check. The bank had been closed exactly one 
hour and fifteen minutes and we had accom- 
plished our ends. 

I placed the check in my mother’s hand and 
kissed her. 

What shall I do with it, my son ? ” 

“ If I am permitted to make a suggestion,” 
said I, “ send it to the First National Bank of 
Lynchburg, Virginia, for deposit.” 

“Take it, Harry, and do this for me.” 

I sent the check by the first mail and it 
was promptly paid. My father came the 
day following, as he had gotten off sooner 
than he had expected, and when he heard 
of Haines’ conduct he wanted to go over 
and thrash him, but I kept him from it. 

“Say, Harry,” said father, after sitting with 
his head upon his hands for some time, as 
was his wont when thinking, “ I want to ask 
you to forgive me.” 

“ What for?” I asked. 

“ For killing that black sow’s pig. I was 
wrong. Wait until I get through, Harry,” he 
said, when I tried to stop him. “ I was wrong, 
and you can have all the hogs upon the 
place if you want them.” 

“ That is in the past, father. ’ I am your 
gon and there is nothing to forgive,” 


i 82 


“ Har Lampkins.' 


Mother came into the office as I arose to 
go for my mail. As I crossed the street I 
heard my father say ; “ Strangest boy that I 
ever saw.'* 


[CHAPTER XXI. 

THE CONFESSION. 

The people who came to court passed on 
their way, horses, mules and carts, wagon 
loads of tools, picks and shovels to be used 
in the construction of the new railroad. 
Work had really begun and the road was a 
certainty. Towns were laid off in numerous 
places and lots were sold at high city prices, 
where no town had ever been. The streets 
are overgrown with weeds, and the corner lots, 
the hotel sites and the lot reserved for the 
bank building are utilized as cow pastures, and 
the great town that the smooth-tongued real 
estate agent pictured to the farmer never 
came. 

The town of Petersville grew and prospered 
and swelled almost into a little city, and had 
of course changed its name. Things have 
changed in the little town, and the Courts are 
not what they were. 

In the good old days when every farmer and 
his son came to town on Court day, and ate 


“ Har Lampkins/^ 


184 

their snacks, prepared by a good housewife, 
and swapped horses and bet on each other’s 
strength. 

If anybody got noisy and wanted to fight 
there were no pistols used, nor knives, nor 
rocks, to cut, bruise and bleed their neighbors, 
but a ring was formed in some convenient 
place and the noisy man was placed inside with 
the one who had volunteered to fight him. 
They fought like men with their fists and when 
it was over they shook hands, took a drink of 
hard cider or corn whisky and went home 
good friends. The neighbors talked about the 
fight while they sat around the family hearth 
that night or the log-rolling the next day. 
They never forgot a fight and seldom forgave 
an injury, but they looked upon a fight of this 
kind, not only as a privilege, but the duty of 
every man who felt like indulging in it. 

However, when they fought an enemy they 
fought to kill pretty much in the same manner 
that Uncle Eli and Phil fought the mob that 
had young Henry Johnson in their clutches. 

This was the day for Henry’s trial. We 
reached no clue as to who killed young Per- 
kins. The Courthouse was packed to its 
utmost capacity, and Henry sat in the bar 
with Judge Fulton and his father on one side 


The Confession. 185 

while I sat on the other. The trial was short 
and circumstances were very much against us ; 
the judge on the bench had had political 
troubles with Captain Johnson, consequently 
we had but very little sympathy from him. 
The State made a strong case against Henry, 
and w’ith the Court’s ruling it looked well-nigh 
impossible to hope for anything but a verdict 
of “Guilty.” 

Witnesses testified to the quarrel on the 
morning of Perkins’ death ; that they were 
seen to pass houses in a few moments of each 
other, Henry being in the rear. Perkins’ uncle 
stated that he had heard three pistol shots, 
fired soon after Henry passed his place. Henry 
made the statement that he gave Judge Ful- 
ton and myself, that the reader is already 
acquainted with. The attorney for the State 
made a strong speech. Judge Fulton followed 
him with a most eloquent appeal for the prisoner 
at the bar. Some of the jury shed tears 
when he pictured how he had been torn away 
from his betrothed, and incarcerated in the 
jail. He spoke of his father and mother and 
sister who were waiting to receive him at home 
again, and how the little fair-haired girl was wait- 
ing with throbbing breast and longing eyes to 
see him, and feel his love-kisses upon her lips. 


" Har Lampkins." 


186 

He closed by referring to the early days of 
love, of those who sat in the jury box, and 
more eyes than one were moist as the old man 
took his seat and wiped the perspiration from 
his noble forehead. Henry whispered to me, 
I think that they will convict me, but I don't 
believe that I killed him.” 

I arose and began my speech in a trembling 
voice ; in fact I was trembling all over. 

“ If your Honor pleases and you, gentle- 
men 

“ Here, Lampkins” shouted Phil as he burst 
into the court-room, holding out a paper to 
me. He did not heed the sheriff’s “ Silence, 
order, gentlemen,” but pushed his way to 
where I stood, blowing from exertion. “ Had 
to ride like my ole Kurnel to get here.” 

I took the paper and looked at it. Judge 
Fulton jumped to my side like a boy and 
glanced at it. 

‘‘ Ask the Cou4-t to allow us to introduce this 
as testimony,” he whispered to me. 

“ If your Honor pleases, we would like to 
introduce this paper in evidence here, in the 
case now before the Court.” 

The Commonwealth’s attorney jumped to 
his feet : “ Now,” said he. 

I did not let him interrupt me but went on ; 


The Confession. 187 

1 know that this is a late hour to introduce 
a witness, but where that witness will promote 
justice, I think that the law, sir, will be satis- 
fied. I feel, sure, sir, that your Honor will 
concur with me in this opinion and that you 
will allow this to go to the jury when you have 
examined it.’’ 

I reached him the paper ; he read it and said, 
‘‘What has the State to say?” 

“ We have this, your Honor. I do not know 
what the paper is or contains, that the gentle- 
man wishes to introduce, but the State and the 
defense have closed. Arguments have been 
made on both sides by counsel and we do not 
think that, according to the rules of your 
Honor’s court, any evidence of any nature 
can, at this time, be introduced. However, I 
would like to see the paper.” 

The sheriff passed him the paper. He read it, 

“We don’t think that the jury should have 
this, sir, but the Court can say.” 

Judge Fulton arose. “If yoiir Honor please, 
you will remember a case exactly of this nature 
in one of the Grattan’s, and the evidence was 
admitted there and we insist on this going to 
the jury.” 

“ Gentlemen,” began the Judge, “ I have been 
asked to allow you to consider this writing as 


i88 “ Har Lampkins.^' 

evidence in behalf of Henry Johnson, the pris- 
oner at the bar. I have decided to do so, 
and I will read it to you.” 

“ I, George Painter, being in a dying condi- 
tion, and knowing that I must soon meet my 
God, do solemnly make the following confes- 
sion. I killed George Perkins, not purposely, 
but by accident. We had planned to meet 
where he was killed and shoot Henry Johnson 
and Harry Lampkins as they came home that 
night. For some reason Johnson came alone. 
Perkins shot at him but missed him. Johnson 
returned the fire but missed. Perkins ran 
behind Johnson so that we could have him 
between us, and as he did so, I fired at John- 
son and hit George Perkins and killed. I knew 
that I had killed when he fell, and my blood 
froze in my veins. I could have killed Johnson, 
but I let him ride away, and he did not even 
know that I was there. But I wished after- 
wards that I had killed him, and I spread the 
news and had Johnson arrested and made 
people believe that he had waylaid Perkins and 
killed him. We intended to hang Johnson and 
then Lampkins, but as in all other contests 
with Lampkins, he had defeated me. I wisL 
that I could see him and ask him to forgive me, 


The Confession. 189 

but I know that I can’t, as my time is short, 
for I am going now. May God be merciful to 
my soul, for it was all for the love of a girl. 

“ George Painter.” 

** Now, gentlemen of the jury,” continued 
the Judge, “ write a verdict of not guilty 
where you sit.” 

They did so, and Henry was free again to 
enter the sunshine of his heaven and of his 
love. I rode home with him and with us were 
my father and mother. Captain Johnson, 
Uncle Eli and Phil. 

I heard Phil say to Uncle Eli : Rode more 
like my ole Kurnel this morning than I ever 
did in my life. I begged him into making that 
confession.” 

“ I have got drunk my last time, Phil,” said 
Uncle Eli. “ I will take just three toddies a 
day until the Lord calls me, which will not be 
long.” 

“ Don’t say that, Eli.” 

“ Yes, it’s so, Phil, I’ve drank my last straight 
drink and swore my last bitter oath. When 
the Lord calls me I want my soul to go and 
rest.” 

When we were on top of the bank about a 
half mile distant from the Captain’s home we 


190 *■ Har Lampkins." 

saw that which made Henry and myself stif 
our horses into a faster gait. Three persons, 
two girls and a middle-aged lady, were shading 
their eyes with their hands and looking towards 
us. His mother kissed Henry and cried. 
Miss Minnie Jones was too happy to cry, but 
kissed her sweetheart, took his arm and walked 
up the gravel path with him. 

Captain Johnson introduced his old sweet- 
heart to his wife as his adopted sister, and in the 
parlor where hung the picture of my mother 
in her youth was a feast such as Belshazzar 
never witnessed nor enjoyed. We were in- 
toxicated more deeply than were his revelers, 
not with wine but with happiness. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


CONCLUSION. 

Father bought a good farm near the little 
town of Petersville and moved there. It was 
near enough to have the advantages of the 
town and the good schools, without any of the 
disadvantages of town life. 

My brothers worked on the farm and were 
happy in the delight they took in growing fine 
stock and blooded saddle horses. It was what 
they were intended for, and God honors every 
honest calling with success when we are con- 
tented and enjoy ourselves and strive to 
elevate that profession. 

Uncle Eli’s words were true. It was not 
long until we laid him to rest in the family 
graveyard, when the Indian summer had 
quietly begun. Mother Jones soon followed 
and sleeps by his side, waiting the bugle call, 
in the time to come when the “ Angel of the 
Lord shall stand with one foot upon the land 
and one upon the sea and proclaim that time 
is no more ! ” 

191 


192 


“ Har Lampkins. 


Captain Johnson comes to see his daughter 
at my house, and it was during one of these 
visits that he told me why he objected to my 
winning his daughter and why his melancholy 
spells came on when I was present. 

“ I loved your mother once, but I knowthat 
she was right in not accepting me as she did 
not love me. I hold no resentment against 
her, though it is the stubborn side of my 
nature that got control of me, and I am glad 
that you conquered me.” 

Henry is my nearest neighbor and we are 
partners, having lately bought out Judge 
Fulton, our former partner. 

My good friend Phil spends most of his time 
playing the violin and cooing to the little 
golden-haired girl that prattles around our 
fireside. I can hear him now talking to her, 
and this is what he is saying: “Jessie, I love 
you as well as I did my ole Kurnel.” 





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